Mirror Image
by Lisa66
Summary: Steve is on the trail of a serial killer. Story Complete. Your support and kindness make this so much fun. Thanks bunches!
1. Message In Blood

**Disclaimer:  The show and the characters belong to CBS and Viacom. They are merely being borrowed for this piece of fan fiction.**

**Author's Note:  I owe so much to the two wonderfully patient ladies who take such wonderful care of me.  They encourage and support me.  Thanks so much you are the best.**

Chapter One – Message In Blood

Steve stood in the doorway to the room surveying the scene in front of him.  A slight dark haired figure was squatting by a body.  Members of the CSU squad were methodically moving through the room.  As his gaze settled on a slightly rumpled, grey haired man an affectionate smile spread across his features.  His father stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, his glasses on the end of his nose, and his brow wrinkled in concentration.  The object of his interest was a phrase that had been written on the dresser mirror in what they surmised was the victim's blood.  Steve walked further into the room and moved to squat beside Amanda.

"Well?" he inquired.

"My preliminary finding would be that he died from a single knife wound to the chest.  I won't be able to tell for sure until I open him up but, if I were a betting woman, I would say the heart was penetrated," Amanda responded. 

Steve mentally catalogued the deceased.  He was in his mid forties, tall probably over 6 feet, brown hair, and had a muscular build.  "He looks to be in pretty good shape.  Are there any signs of how he might have been subdued?"

"No, there don't appear to be any signs of a struggle."

"Would make you think he knew his killer, wouldn't it," Steve surmised as he slid a hand under Amanda's elbow as they rose to an upright position.

"So, what do you think he has found?" Amanda inquired as she nodded towards Mark.

"With Dad, who knows?" Steve replied with a grin.  "He may have already solved the case."

He and Amanda shared a smile as they moved to join Mark.  "What have you got, Dad?"

"Well, I'm no handwriting expert but this looks like it was written by a woman," Mark responded.  "And the message reads like a woman scorned."

Steve had to agree with his father.  The message "If I can't have you, no one will," did have all the appearances of a romantic entanglement.  That coupled with no signs of a struggle increased the odds that they were looking for someone the victim knew.

"What's his name?" Mark asked.

Steve flipped open his notebook.  "Clifford Jewell, 44, he was a commercial real estate broker."

"Married?" Mark inquired.

Steve's response was interrupted by the body being loaded onto a gurney to be transported to the Pathology Lab, and Amanda's hand on his arm.  "I should have the autopsy results for you by early this evening.  Are you going to stop by, or do you want me to call you?"

"No, Dad rode in with me, so I'll need to come get him after work.  I'll check in with you then.   You ready to go to the hospital, Dad?"

"Yes, we can finish talking on the way in," Mark replied.

**……………….**

Steve and Mark had been riding for sometime in a comfortable silence.  Each was processing the crime scene in their own distinctly unique way.    Steve concentrated on the obvious clues and facts, while Mark followed the path less taken.  His greatest ability was a knack for the obscure clue, the one most people missed.

Mark broke the silence first.  "Did he have any family?"

"I don't really know yet.  The background check wasn't completed when we left the scene.  I looked through his address book, and found a Cathy Jewell but I don't know how she might be related."

"What's next on your agenda today?" Mark asked.

"After I drop you off, I'm going to head over to Commercial Cal, the real estate company he works for.  His neighbors didn't seem to know much about him; maybe his co-workers can shed a little more light on who he was."

As they pulled up in front of Community General, Mark paused before exiting the car.  "What time should I expect you back?"

"When do you think you'll be done for the day?"

"I should be finished up around six, do you think you'll be free by then?" Mark replied.

"Yeah, did you want to go with me to talk with Amanda?"

"Of course," Mark responded with a grin.

Steve smiled in return.  "Ok, Dad, I'll see you at six, and after we get the report from Amanda we can go to Bob's for dinner.  Have a good day!"

"You too, Son."

**………………..**

Steve glanced impatiently at his watch for what seemed like the 100th time in the last fifteen minutes.  The owner of the real estate company was in no hurry to see him.  He sighed deeply before pushing himself out of the large overstuffed chair he had sunk into and approached the receptionist desk again.  The heavily made-up resident of the desk flashed him a brief look.  "Ms Gleis, is still busy."

"Ms Gleis, needs to get un-busy.  If she would prefer I could call for a couple of marked patrol cars to come to the scene and 'help' me with the interview process.  I can make sure they park out front with their lights on.  Why don't you get hold of Ms Gleis, and see how that works for her?" Steve asked with a less than friendly grin.

Steve was the recipient of a cold stare from the heavily frosted and mascaraed eyes behind the desk.  "I don't think Ms Gleis would like that."

"I'll bet you're right," Steve responded with a completely insincere smile.

"If you'll have a seat I'll contact her again."

"No thanks, I think I'll just stay right here until she sees me," Steve responded in a tone drenched with sweetness.

He once again received a cold stare from the make-up queen as she dialed the extension for her boss.  She covered her mouth and the phone with her hand and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece.  As she hung up the phone she offered what he assumed was supposed to have been a smile.  "Ms Gleis will see you now, the last door on the left at the end of the hallway," she informed him as she gestured towards the hall.

As Steve made his way down the hall, he took note of the awards and certificates that adorned them.  There were top seller awards, Chamber of Commerce awards and assorted other accomplishments that were documented.  As he neared the end of the hallway, the door opened and the word that came to Steve's mind was Amazon.  She was tall, taller than he was and her physique matched her height.  Though he was confident in his own abilities, the thought flashed through his mind that she could probably take him in a one on one fight.  As he reached the doorway, he extended his right hand and found it grasped firmly in a hand of equal size.  "Ms Gleis, I'm sorry to interrupt your day.  I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan, LAPD Homicide.  I need to talk with you about one of your employees, Clifford Jewell."

She motioned for Steve to join her in the office as she answered his question.  "Cliff? I don't think he's in yet today.  Please have a seat," she responded as she gestured towards the seat in front of her desk.

"Yes, I know that, Ms Gleis, I'm afraid I have some bad news.  Clifford Jewell was found dead this morning."

Madelyn Gleis stopped abruptly from her descent into her chair.  "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Ms Gleis, but Clifford Jewel was found dead at his apartment this morning."

She more collapsed than lowered herself in the chair.  She sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped in her lap.  When she raised her head to look at him tears glistened in her eyes.  "What happened?"

"He was murdered.  Do you know if he had any family?"  Steve knew he sounded abrupt, but he was not going to be able to give her any information about the crime itself and his goal right now was to try and determine if the man had any family so that they could be notified.

Madelyn Gleis observed him quietly before she responded.  "Cliff is…was a very private man, but I do require my employees to provide me with some personal information in case of emergencies, let me check his file."  She opened the desk drawer to her left and began thumbing through the files in it.  "How was he killed?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry, Ms Gleis, I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of the case."

As she retrieved a folder from the drawer she eyed him intently.  "Oh, ok, I guess I understand that.  The only relative he has listed is a sister, her name is Cathy Jewell.  Do you want her address and phone number?"

Steve figured that the information in Clifford Jewell's address book was probably more accurate but it never hurt to have another source.  "Yes, please that would be a big help."

Steve flipped his notebook closed and rose from the chair.  "Thank you for your time, Ms Gleis, I can find my way out."

"You're welcome, Lt. Sloan, I'm sorry for the delay in seeing you earlier.  I have been having a bit of a squabble with the owner of the Travel Agency next door, and he had threatened to call the police, I thought that's why you were here."

"That's fine, thanks for your time."

**………………..**

Steve sat in his car in front of the apartment building on Madison Street.    He had never gotten used to this aspect of the job.  Informing someone that a loved one had died was tough enough, but when you added the fact that they had been murdered, the news was almost always overwhelming to the recipient.  He had been slapped, spit on, cursed at, and at times been a source of comfort for the bereaved.  _Stop putting it off Sloan she has a right to know.  _He sighed, then opened the car door and stepped out of and around the car to the sidewalk and moved towards the building.  He now stood outside apartment 2H.  He lifted his finger and rang the buzzer.  He could hear noises from inside, and then he heard a muffled, "coming."   The door opened as far as the security chain would allow and a dark brown eye peeped out.

"Yes?"

"Ms Cathy Jewel?" At her nodded response, he held his badge up to the crack in the door and continued.  "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan, with the LAPD.  I need to speak with you."

There was a moment's pause before she responded.  "Sure."  She closed the door and he heard the security chain being removed and then the door reopened and she motioned him in.  "What can I do for you?" she inquired.

"Ms Jewell, I'm afraid I have some bad news.  Your brother, Clifford, was found dead this morning."  He saw her eyes roll back and her knees begin to buckle, he moved quickly and caught her as she fainted.  He carefully lifted her into his arms and moved towards the couch where he deposited her gently.  He headed down the hall where he assumed he would find a bathroom.  With a cold wet washcloth in hand, he made his way back to the collapsed figure on the couch.  He knelt down and placed the cloth on her forehead.  After a brief moment, her eyelids fluttered, then finally opened.  She looked at him with confused eyes before the memory hit her full force.  Steve found himself staring into liquid brown pools.

"Is it true?" she sobbed.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is true," Steve replied.

She closed her eyes tightly and began to push herself into a sitting position.  Steve slipped a hand under her arm and helped her.  "What happened to him?" she asked.

"He was murdered," Steve responded.

Her responding gasp turned into a choked sob as the tears began flowing freely.  "I don't understand, who would want to kill Cliff?  Who found him?"

"We were hoping maybe you could help us with who, and he was found by his cleaning lady," Steve replied.

"Are you sure it was Cliff?  He sometimes has friends stay over, it could have been one of them," was her desperate response.

"Ms Jewell, I'm sorry to say that I am confident that it is your brother, however, I have an officer on the way over to take you to officially identify the body."

She resignedly nodded her head.  "How can I help you find who did this?"

"Can you think of anyone who would do this to your brother?" Steve asked as he opened his notebook.

"No, Cliff was a great brother and friend.  I don't think he had any enemies."

"Had he ever been married?" Steve asked.

"No, he always said he was a bachelor for life."

"Had he been seeing anyone?"

"Not seriously, his last long term relationship had ended badly a couple of months ago and he told me he was going to take a break.  He had been seeing one lady fairly regularly but they were just friends."

"What do you mean it ended badly?"

"Cliff said she was smothering him.  If he even looked at another woman, she flew into a jealous rage.  The final straw came at dinner one night.  His boss, Madelyn Gleis, was having dinner at the same restaurant.  Cliff spoke with her and apparently Gwen pitched a huge fit, and they were asked to leave the restaurant.  Cliff was mortified she had embarrassed him at a restaurant he frequented, but more importantly she had humiliated him in front of his boss.  He broke up with her that night."

"What is Gwen's last name?"

"Sterling, I think I remember Cliff saying she lived on Lotus Street."

"Had he mentioned any problems with anyone else?" Steve inquired.

"No, I can't think of anyone who could do this."

At that moment the doorbell buzzed.  Steve closed his notebook and rose to his feet.  "I'll get it, Ms Jewell."  Steve opened the door and nodded a greeting to the officer on the other side and leaned in close and spoke in a low voice.  "Can you escort Ms Jewell to Community General to identify a body and then bring her back here?" 

'Sure, Lieutenant Sloan," the officer replied.

"Thanks, come on in while I fill her in," Steve responded as he moved back towards Cathy Jewell.  "Ms Jewell this officer will be accompanying you to identify your brother, if you think of anything that might be of help, or if you need anything please feel free to call me," Steve indicated as he extended his hand with a business card in it

As she accepted the card from him their hands touched briefly and Steve felt a tingle at the contact.  The expression in the brown eyes of Cathy Jewell indicated that she to had felt the charge.  "Thank you, Lieutenant, please find out who murdered my brother."


	2. Behind Door Number Two

Chapter Two – Behind Door Number Two

Steve once again found himself in front of an apartment door preparing to ring the doorbell.  The information he had gathered on Gwen Sterling had indicated she had a short fuse.  She had been arrested before for minor assault charges.  From the reports he had read it seemed she had a problem controlling her temper.  He also discovered that Clifford Jewell had gotten a restraining order against her.   He pressed the doorbell and waited.  He didn't have to stand there too long as the door was flung open and he was greeted rudely.  "Who are you, and what the hell do you want?"

Steve flipped his badge open.  "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan with the LAPD, are you Gwen Sterling?"

Her eyes flashed and her response was laced with sarcasm.  "Why, yes I am, are you collecting for the policemen's ball?"

Steve had to suppress the response he really wanted to give.  "No, Ma'am, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Clifford Jewell."

She snorted her response.  "I don't care what he says, I haven't been anywhere near him."

"He hasn't said anything Ms Sterling, he's dead," Steve stated bluntly.

Gwen Sterling's, eyes widened in surprise.  "Dead! You've got to be kidding me, what happened?"

"He was murdered."

"Oh what, and you think I did it?" she asked.

"I didn't say that, I said I would like to ask you some questions," Steve responded.

"Spare me the false pretense that this is purely a visit to gather information.  You've read my record, you know he had a restraining against me, and I'm sure his goodie, goodie little sister was just full of helpful information!"

Steve regarded the woman in front of him.  "Ms Sterling, I would prefer to have this conversation somewhere other than the hall.  Now, we can either step into your apartment or I can take you down to the precinct.  You decide."

"Please excuse my lack of manners, come in," she offered sarcastically.

Steve offered her a smile that closely resembled a sneer and made his way into her apartment.  "Thank you," he offered dryly.

**………………..**

Steve dropped into the chair behind his desk and sighed.  He felt as if he had been in a battle.  His time spent with Gwen Sterling had been completely unproductive and had been punctuated by moments of downright hostility.  He had left her apartment and traveled to the discount store she worked at a few miles from her home to verify that she had indeed been at work all night stocking shelves.  He was exhausted and frustrated.  He had spent the entire day talking with people and had accomplished very little.  As he looked down at his watch he realized he needed to leave to go pick up his father.  Maybe the autopsy would provide some positive results.

**………………..**

As Steve walked down the hall of Community General towards his father's office he heard a familiar voice coming from one of the patients' rooms.  As he neared the door he stopped just outside the threshold and observed his father working his magic.  The elderly patient in the bed had a delighted smile on her face.  Mark was singing softly and doing a soft shoe routine that Steve recognized.  He felt the tension and the stress of the day melting away and he marveled at his father's ability to know exactly what to do for his patients.  Mark was not only a healer of the body he was also a healer of the mind and soul.  He felt someone at his elbow and found Amanda standing beside him.  He offered her a smile.

"Mrs. Adkins has Alzheimer's," Amanda whispered.  "She has been refusing to eat and today has been combative.  She's not Mark's patient, but Dr. Murphy asked for his help."

Steve took note of the empty dinner tray that sat on the table, and the smile that was still in place on Mrs. Adkins face.  Not for the first time in his life he felt his heart swell with pride.  His father was one of a kind.  As if suddenly sensing he had an audience Mark turned towards the door and made eye contact with Steve. A knowing look of love passed between them and Mark held up his hand indicating that he needed about five more minutes.  Steve nodded his understanding and he and Amanda moved away from the door and continued towards Mark's office.

**…………………**

Amanda and Steve were quietly talking as they waited for Mark when his office door burst open and the whirling dervish that was Jesse entered.  He stopped abruptly when he realized Mark was not behind his desk.  "Where's Mark?"

"Well, hello to you too, Jesse," Amanda gently reprimanded.

"Oh, hey sorry, Guys, I just needed Mark's advice on a patient.  Where is he?"

Steve never ceased to be amazed at the amount of energy his young friend exuded.  "He's down the hall with a patient he should be here any minute."

"Speak of the devil," responded a voice from the doorway.

"Mark, I need your help," Jesse blurted.

"Jesse!" Amanda chastised.  "At least let him get through the door."

"It's ok, Amanda," Mark responded.  "What do you need, Jesse?"

Jesse threw a smug smile Amanda's way before he continued.  "I have a patient, Mr. Lewis, whose symptoms bounce all over the place.  All of the tests I have ordered have come back negative."

"Steve, why don't you and Amanda start without me, Jesse, let's go take a look at your patient."

**………………..**

"So, you're saying that his killer was about the same height or taller than him?" Steve asked.

"From the angle of the wound yes, I would say the killer was similar in height," Amanda replied.  The knife entered his body at a downward angle."

"Could they maybe have been standing on something?" Steve asked.

"Sure."

"Ok, what else?" Steve inquired.

"I also found a needle mark on the back of his neck, and a hair in his eyelash that doesn't appear to be his.  I should have all the results on them as well as the blood from the mirror by tomorrow."

Steve smiled.  "Thanks, Amanda, I guess I'll go see if I can round up Dad and hope he is ready to go.  Would tomorrow afternoon be too early to stop by?"

"No, that should be fine.  I'll call you if it looks like things are going to be delayed."

**………………..**

Steve and Mark had enjoyed a relaxing dinner at Bob's and were now on their way home.  They had discussed the interviews Steve had conducted and the results of Amanda's autopsy.

"So, what do you think, Dad?"

"It was someone he didn't feel threatened by.  Depending on what Amanda finds out about what was injected into his neck it's seems logical to think his killer incapacitated him with a drug before they killed him."

As Steve started to respond his phone rang.  'Sloan.  Where?  Ok, I can be there in about 20 minutes."

He turned to find Mark watching expectantly.  "Another case?"

"Yes, a man stabbed in the chest, sound familiar?"


	3. Face From The Past

Chapter Three – Face From The Past

Steve pulled up in front of a non-descript apartment building and stopped the car.  He unhooked his seatbelt and as he moved to open the door he heard the passenger side close and smiled slightly at the thought that his 'elderly' father had once again beaten him out of the car.  He caught up with Mark and they made their way through the gathered crowd of curious onlookers and members of the media.  Steve heard his name being called and scanned the crowd for the owner of the voice.  He lifted his hand in greeting to Alexandria Thompson, a reporter for the LA Times.  "Dad, go on without me, I'm going to talk with Alex for a minute."

Mark looked at Steve and smiled a knowing smile.  "Sure, take your time, I'll see you inside."

Steve moved towards the petite attractive blonde with a welcoming smile on his face.  "Alex."

"Steve, how have you been doing?"

"Busy, and you?"

"Same old, same old, so what's the story here?"

"Well, you certainly cut through the pleasantries quickly.  Do you have an earlier deadline than normal?"

A bubble of laughter escaped her.  "No, I just wanted to make sure I asked the work question before you started trying to charm me."

Steve raised an eyebrow and smiled a devastating smile.  "Me charm?  Never."

She returned the smile.  "So, are you going to share any information?"

"Not yet, has your number changed?"

"No, it has been a long time since you called it, but it hasn't changed."

Steve's smile slipped a little and he paused for a moment before he responded.  "Alex, you know why I stopped calling, we discussed it and both agreed it was for the best."

"No, Steve, you talked and I listened, I don't remember agreeing or disagreeing."

"Alex, I'm sorry, I can't get into this now.  I'll call you later, ok?"

"Sure, but you do remember my real deadline, right?"

The smile back in full force Steve answered.  "Yes, and if I get things finished up here before then I will call and give you what I can."

"I look forward to your call," Alex responded.

.

As Steve made his way into the apartment building his thoughts drifted to his time with Alex Thompson.  He had enjoyed being with her a great deal.  She was smart, sexy and had an impish sense of humor.  Things had been going very well until confidential information on a case he was working appeared in a column Alex had written.  As the lead detective on the case, who also happened to be involved with the reporter Steve had been the subject of an investigation.  Alex had refused to identify her source which only increased the suspicion that it was Steve.  As the investigation had reached its final stages, and it appeared that Steve would face disciplinary action, one of his fellow detectives had admitted he had given Alex the information in an effort to impress the beautiful reporter.  Steve had at first been angry with Alex for not clearing him but eventually realized it was not in her nature to betray one to save another.  He had also come to realize that their relationship would always be subject to similar occurrences because of their jobs.  Hers required her to dig for any and all information and his required him to keep all but the obvious details confidential.  Thus they had decided it was best they not see each other anymore, or had they?  Alex's comments had perplexed him, he was sure she had agreed.  His thoughts were halted as he made his way into the apartment of their latest victim.  He found his father in the bedroom stooped over a dead body.  He stopped in the middle of the room and took in the situation.  On the mirror was a message written in red, the body was lying close to the bed on his stomach.  The victim was Brent Coleman, he was a little over six feet and had a muscular build.  The carpet around the body was red with blood.  The scene looked all too familiar.  Mark looked up and saw him.

.

"Steve, come take a look at this."

Steve moved across the room to join his father.  "We may have gotten a break," Mark informed him.

"What have you found, Dad?" Steve asked.

Mark motioned towards a corner of the bed and lifted the bed ruffle.  Steve squatted down to look at it closely.  It looked to be a partial footprint in blood.  "It looks small," Steve observed.

"Yes, I'd say a six or a six-and-a-half," Mark agreed.

"So, either our murderer is a woman, or our victim had a visitor after he was killed," Steve offered.  Further discussion was halted by one of the other officers on the scene.

"Lieutenant Sloan, I have someone you may want to talk with," stated Officer Campbell.

Steve looked up into the fresh young face.  _Did I look that young when I started?  He looks like he should still be in high school._  "What have you got, Officer?"

"Well, I was talking with the neighbors and one of them, a Mrs. Cavanaugh, said she saw a woman leaving the apartment around 9:00pm."

"When did you get the call about the body?" Steve inquired.

"We were dispatched a little after 9:00pm.  Dispatch said it was a 911 call from a phone booth around the corner," Officer Campbell responded.

"Does CSU know about the phone booth?" Steve asked.

"Yes, I told the lead detective when they got here, he sent someone to check for prints and evidence."

"Ok, thanks, good work, where is Mrs. Cavanaugh?"

"She is in apartment 4F."

"Dad, do you want to go with me?"

"Sure, Steve," Mark responded.

Steve lifted his hand but before he could knock the door was jerked open by a plump grey haired woman.  "Mrs. Cavanaugh?"

"Yes."

"I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan, and this is my father Doctor Mark Sloan, he is a medical consultant with the police department.  We would like to ask you some questions."

Steve suddenly felt invisible; as he had finished his introductions Mrs. Cavanaugh had latched her beady eyes on his father.  Her look could only be described as predatory.

Mark moved forward and enveloped her hand in his.  "Mrs. Cavanaugh, we are so sorry for interrupting your evening."

Mrs. Cavanaugh flushed slightly.  "Doctor Sloan, it's no problem I want to do whatever I can to help."

"Can you tell us what you saw?" Mark inquired.

"Yes, please come in," invited Mrs. Cavanaugh.

As they followed her into her apartment Steve observed the girlish glances she kept throwing at Mark and Steve groaned inwardly, it was going to be a long interview.

**…………………**

Steve slid into the driver's seat of his car, as Mark slid into the passenger seat.  "Did you get a date?" he questioned Mark.

Mark smiled.  "No, but I wasn't looking for one, how about you?"

"Dad, she wasn't interested in me."

"And, I wasn't talking about Mrs. Cavanaugh, I was talking about Alex."

"Dad, you know we broke it off, she was just a reporter looking for information."

Mark chuckled softy.  "Whatever you say, Son, whatever you say, when are you going to call her with the 'information'?"

Steve resisted the temptation to glare at his dad, put the car into gear and drove away from the predatory Mrs. Cavanaugh, Alex and everything else he had seen that evening.


	4. Another Suspect, Another Murder

Chapter Four –  Another Suspect, Another Murder

Mark sat on the deck reading through the file that Steve had brought home on the two murders.  Amanda had received the reports on the Jewell case and had confirmed that the message on the mirror had been written in the victim's blood.  The hair in his eyelash was synthetic.  The one thing that he found puzzling was the needle mark they had found on the victim's neck, no foreign substance had been found in the blood work.  As he continued to read through the file he reached Clifford Jewell's personal information.  He paused his reading as he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and Steve appeared with a folder under his arm.

"Hey, Dad, found anything?"

"No, nothing, is that the file on Brent Coleman?"

"Yes, I picked it up from Amanda on the way home."

"Any information on his lady visitor?" Mark asked.

"No, I went and notified his parents and asked if they knew if he had been seeing anyone, and they said no and suggested I talk with his brother Jamey.  I went by his place earlier and no one was home." 

When Steve received no response he looked across the table to find his father intently staring at two pieces of paper, one from each folder.  He instantly knew that Mark had found something.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Both of the victims went to Ray's Gym.  They had membership cards in their wallet.  They are on Amanda's inventory of personal belongings."

"I would find it hard to believe that it's a coincidence.  I'll stop by there after I check out Jamey Coleman's place again."

**………………..**

Steve knocked on the door of Jamey Coleman's apartment, and after a brief delay the door was opened by a petite 'well muscled' young woman in Daisy Duke short's and a mid-drift baring shirt.

"I'm, Lieutenant Steve Sloan, with the LAPD, is Jamey Coleman here?"

The woman eyed him up and down before responding in a raspy smoker's voice.  "I'm Jamey Coleman, what can I do for you?"

"There must be some mistake," Steve stuttered.  "I'm looking for the brother of Brent Coleman."

"One and the same," replied Jamey Coleman.

Steve took a closer look at the individual in front of him.  On closer inspection he could see the masculine shape of the features that the make-up could not hide, he also noticed the beginnings of a 5:00 shadow.  The next thought that crossed his mind was that Jamey Coleman resembled the woman Mrs. Cavanaugh had seen leaving Brent Coleman's apartment.

"Cat got you tongue, Lieutenant?  You can't tell me you live in LA and you've never seen a trans-sexual.  Now what brings a big, bad, buff cop like yourself to my door?  It's too early for Christmas, and I don't have a birthday for a couple of months so you couldn't be a present."

Steve felt a warm flush spread up his face.  "Have you spoken with your parents?"

"Not for about 7 years, would you care to come in, Lieutenant?" Jamey asked.

Steve sighed as he moved into the apartment and shut the door behind him.  _Great, now I get to break the news to him.  _"Mr. Coleman, I'm afraid I have some bad news.  Your brother was found dead last night."

"Really," was the cold response.

"Yes, really, I can tell you're broken up about it," Steve replied.  "You weren't by any chance at your brother's last night were you?"

"Yes, I was there but he was already dead," was the blunt response.

"You didn't think that maybe you should have stuck around?" Steve asked in amazement.

"Look, I went around the corner and called the cops, I had plans last night, and I knew that if I called from there I would never be able to keep them."

"Why did you go visit him?" Steve asked.

"I needed money, he had some, it was as simple as that," was the terse response.

"Do you have a job?" Steve inquired.

"Yes, I'm an emergency room nurse at Memorial Hospital, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Just routine questions, prior to last night when was the last time you saw your brother?"

"About three weeks ago, we had a moment at Vinnie's Bar."

"What do you mean you had a moment?" Steve asked.

"When we were younger we used to hang out there with our friends, Brent still did, but I hadn't been back in years.  I became persona non grata when I made my lifestyle change.  One of our mutual friends, Michael Martin, was there.  I had always thought he was kinda cute, Brent didn't appreciate me asking him out.  We had a little disagreement.  It cost me a couple of teeth and a black eye, it's amazing what you can hide with makeup," he responded as he gently touched the injured eye.

"So, I guess it would be fair to say you weren't getting along?"

Jamey giggled.  "Yes, that would be a fair statement."

"Is that your hair or do you wear a wig?" Steve asked.

"I wish my real hair would look like this, I wear wigs, why?"

Steve contemplated the man in front of him.  He had access to needles, he wore a wig, his feet were small, he had been in his brother's apartment, but where was the connection to Clifford Jewell?  It was enough to take him to the precinct for more in depth interrogation.  His decision made Steve proceeded.

"Mr. Coleman, I'd like you to come down to the precinct with me for some further questions."

"Only if you promise to use your cuffs," Jamey responded with a sly smile.

Once again Steve felt the warm flush spread up his face.  "Mr. Coleman, cuffs won't be necessary I just think it would be better if we continued this discussion at the precinct.

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant,"  Jamey purred.  "Just let me grab my bag."

As Jamey Coleman sauntered back into the room Steve's cell phone rang.  'Sloan, Oh, hi, Dad, no, I'm at his brother's apartment.  Have you found something?"  Steve wrinkled his brow as his father relayed the information he had uncovered.  "Well, that's a surprise, when did she take it out?"  Steve listened intently to Mark's response.  "Ok, thanks, Dad, I'm heading to the precinct with Jamey Coleman, after I finish up there I'll swing by and get you and we'll go visit Cathy Jewell."  Steve ended his phone call and snapped the phone shut.  He looked up to find Jamey Coleman leaning against the wall with a smile on his face.

"Did you find a suspect other than me?" he asked.

Ignoring the question Steve opened the door and motioned Jamey Coleman out of the room. 

**………………..**

Steve was exhausted.  The interview with Jamey Coleman had totally drained him.  It had been a game of cat and mouse and Steve was pretty sure he had been the mouse.  He and his father had just pulled up in front of Cathy Jewell's.  Mark had discovered that she had taken a million dollar life insurance policy out on her brother 6 months ago.  Further investigation had shown that she was deeply in debt and was on the verge of bankruptcy.  Her boyfriend worked for a pharmaceutical company and there was apparently bad blood between her and Clifford over Gwen Sterling.  Her brother had blamed her interference for things going badly in the relationship.  He had two valid suspects who didn't know each other for two similar homicides.  He sighed heavily before exiting the car and joining his father on the sidewalk.  They entered the building and made their way to Cathy Jewell's apartment.  As Steve moved to knock on the door, it was abruptly jerked open.  On instinct one hand moved towards his gun, while the other shoved Mark away from the door.  Thus, when Cathy Jewell looked up she was greeted with Steve's gun in her face.  She let out a high pitched shriek and fainted, landing with a small thump on the floor.

Steve heard his father chuckle behind him.  "You know, Son, that's not the most polite way to greet someone, let's get her off the floor."

Steve knelt down, and slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and after righting himself carried her to the same couch he had laid her on when she passed out the first time.  He accepted the damp washcloth that Mark had retrieved from the bathroom and rested it on her forehead.  As her eyes opened the haziness was quickly replaced by a blazing fury and Steve flinched as the wet washcloth struck him in the face.

"How dare you come to my home and draw a gun on me," she snapped.

Steve held up his hand to try and stop her.  "Ms Jewell, I'm really……,"

"You're really what? Incompetent? Reckless? Insane?"

"Ms Jewell, excuse us please.  It was just a matter of bad timing.  Please let me introduce myself, I'm Doctor Mark Sloan, I'm a consultant with the police department on murder investigations.  I am looking into the death of your brother."

The soothing, calm tone had the intended affect.  Cathy Jewell's eyes stopped blazing fury as she regarded the two men in front of her and a bubble of laughter escaped her.  She then started laughing hysterically.

Steve raised startled and concerned eyes towards his father.  "Dad?"

"It's ok, Son, it's just nerves, move over here out of the way and let me talk with her."

Steve practically leapt from his position on the table and allowed his father to take his place.  "Ms Jewell, I need you to try and calm down, listen to my voice and take slow deep breaths.  Can you do that for me?"

She nodded her head slightly and hiccupped as she drew in a deep breath.  Mark continued his slow soothing monologue until her laughter ceased and her breathing became more regular and she moved into a sitting position on the couch.

"Feeling better?" Mark inquired.

"Yes, yes thank you I am, Lieutenant, I'm really sorry, I know I must have startled you, and that's why you reacted the way you did," she stated with a tremulous smile.

"It's alright, Ms Jewell, I'm sorry as well, I'm afraid my instincts kicked in and I overreacted."

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I had some more questions for you," Steve replied.

"Oh, what kind of questions?"

"Mainly about the life insurance policy you took out on your brother 6 months ago," Steve responded.

"I see. How did you find out about that?"

Steve shared a smile with his father.  "My father is a tenacious investigator, he can find out most anything."

"So, now you think I killed my brother?"

"No, I didn't say that, I just need you to explain the circumstances behind your purchase of the policy."

"You have to admit its a little odd, Ms Jewell," Mark added.

Cathy Jewell sighed deeply and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap.  "I didn't want to do it.  Cliff was the one who initiated it.  He actually paid the first premium," she explained as she lifted her head her eyes glistened with tears.

"Why?" was Mark's simple question.

"Our father died in his 40's from a genetic heart defect.  Cliff was sure the same was going to happen to him, he wanted to make sure I was taken care of," she sobbed.

"Ms Jewell, did he see a doctor?" Mark asked.

"I suppose he did, he never really said," she answered.

"Ms Jewell, I saw his autopsy report, your brother's heart was perfectly healthy," Mark explained.

Her mouth formed the word No, but no sound came out.

Mark reached out a hand and placed it on her arm and squeezed reassuringly.  She smiled her gratitude.

"Ms Jewell, did you and your brother have words over Gwen Sterling?" Steve asked.

"Yes, we did, I knew she was completely wrong for him.  I approached him about it, and she overheard and things went down hill from there.  She became extremely violent and he was forced to take out the restraining order on her.  At first he blamed me, but finally he realized that it would have happened anyway," she responded with a shrug.  "I didn't kill my brother, Lieutenant Sloan, he was the only family I had; I'm all alone now."

Steve looked to Mark who nodded his agreement.  "That's all for now, Ms Jewell, thank you for your time, and again I'm sorry I scared you earlier," Steve explained.

"It's alright, Lieutenant," she responded as she walked them to the door.  "Doctor Sloan, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise, Ms Jewell, I'm sorry we interrupted you from going out earlier," Mark responded.

"Don't worry about it, have a good evening," she replied.

**………………..**

As they settled into the car Steve looked expectantly at his father.  "Well?"

Mark smiled.  "I don't think she's our murderer."

"Yeah, I know, that leaves me with my migraine inducing suspect Jamey Coleman," Steve responded with a smile.

As Mark started to respond Steve's phone rang.  "Sloan, where?  Ok, I'll be there in about 30 minutes."  He closed his phone and looked at his father.  "I guess we just provided Cathy Jewell with an alibi for the third murder."


	5. In Anything Ever Easy?

Chapter Five – Is Anything Ever Easy?

Steve sat on the side of the bed and rubbed his bleary eyes.  It had been after 3AM when he got in from the scene of the third murder.  Once again the victim had been a man in his early 40's, around six feet tall, a bachelor, and was in good physical shape.  His name was Jacob Sherrard.  He had been stabbed in the chest, and Steve was sure Amanda would find evidence of a needle mark in the back of his neck.  It was 7AM and he was due at the precinct by 8AM.  He hadn't even had a chance to finish interviews from the first two murders and he already had another.  He still needed to go by Ray's Gym.  Right now it was the only thing linking Clifford Jewell and Brent Coleman.  He sighed wearily and rested his face in his hands.  A noise from upstairs caught his attention and he listened intently for a moment until he identified the sound of his father whistling and preparing breakfast.  He shook his head slightly and smiled.  Mark had been out late with him, and yet he was up, and in all likelihood dressed for work and preparing breakfast.  He pushed himself upright and shuffled into the shower.

**………………..**

When Steve got to the station he received a pleasant surprise.  Captain Newman had assigned another detective to help Steve out.  He had been working alone for the last two weeks.  Cheryl had injured her knee during a foot pursuit and had undergone surgery to repair the damage.  Her recovery would take at least four more weeks.  After his introduction to Detective Aaron Dunbar, Steve had quickly taken advantage of the extra body and sent him to Ray's Gym.  Steve was going to contact the family of Jacob Sherrard.  His father was deceased and his mother was in a nursing home.  He had a brother who was retired military and lived in San Diego, a sister who was a teacher in St. Louis and another brother who was currently a guest of the state of California.

**………………..**

Alexandria Thompson sat staring at her phone as if that would make it ring.  Steve had said he would call.  She had been at the scene of the third murder but he had already been inside the victim's house and she had left early to try and meet the late edition deadline for her story.  She drummed her pencil against her desk and silently fumed.  _He said he would call._

"Ms Thompson?"

"What?" she barked at the man who stood in front of her desk.

David Larkin jumped and stepped back slightly.

Alex immediately felt bad.  David was one of the sweetest men she had ever met.  He seemed to know what she needed sometimes even before she did.  He didn't deserve her anger.  She reached a hand out towards him and was gratified when he moved back towards her desk.  "David, I'm so sorry, you just caught me off guard."

"It's ok Ms Thompson, It's my fault, I shouldn't have startled you like that."

Alex smiled at him brightly.  "What did you need, David?"

"Nothing really I just wanted to see if you needed any help with your story."

Alex's face darkened.  "No, David, I'm waiting for a call from Steve Sloan, he said he would call me with more information."

"Steve Sloan, isn't he that police officer that you dated?"

"Yes, one and the same," Alex responded.

"I'm surprised you would want to talk with him after the way he treated you."

"He didn't treat me badly, David, circumstances just made it difficult for us to be together, I was willing to give it another try," she shrugged.  "But Steve felt that things would always be difficult."

"I think you're too good for him," David stated succinctly.

"Thank you, David, but I don't want to give you the wrong impression he is one of the most frustrating and difficult men I have ever met, but he is also, one of the kindest and compassionate as well."

"Whatever you say Ms Thompson, did you need me to do anything?"

"No, David, but thanks for the offer."

As David turned to walk back towards his desk he couldn't help but think that a woman as wonderful and beautiful as Alexandria Thompson really did deserve someone better than a homicide cop.

**…………………**

Steve sat at Bob's reading over the report that Detective Dunbar had prepared from his interviews at Ray's Gym.  It appeared to be a dead end.  Jewell and Coleman belonging there seemed to be a coincidence.  Jewell had been a member for some time but Coleman had only joined about a week ago and had been there the one time to sign up.

"You know it's bad for business when a customer, especially when he is a part owner, completely ignores their food," Jesse informed him.

Steve looked up and had to grin.  "Sorry, Jess, just got caught up in my reading."

"Can I help with anything?" Jesse offered.

Steve leaned back in his chair tiredly.  "I'm not sure, Jess, this case has got me stumped."

 "No good suspects?" Jesse inquired.

"Oh, I have a couple of good suspects, one each for the first two murders, trouble is the evidence points to one person for all three

"What about the third victim?"

"I spoke with his sister, she last talked with him about a week ago, he seemed fine and didn't mention anything out of the ordinary, she gave me a couple of names of friends, but they were in Vegas together.  His boss is out of town today, so I'm going to go by there tomorrow." 

 "So, what's on the agenda for the rest of the day?" Jesse asked.

Just as Steve started to speak, his phone rang.  He offered Jesse a smile as he flipped it open and answered it.  "Sloan, oh, Alex, what's up?"  Steve cringed slightly and Jesse's eyes widened as he heard the voice coming through Steve's phone.  The continuous stream of words coming from Alex prevented Steve from saying anything until the conversation ended.  "Ok, I'll see you then, bye."  Steve sighed heavily as he closed the phone and looked up to find Jesse staring at him with a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

 "Problems?" Jesse asked with a smirk.

"No, why would you think there was a problem?"

"Oh, nothing, people always carry on normal conversations that loud, as a doctor I have to tell you it could be bad for your hearing," Jesse informed him with a sly smile.  "That wouldn't happen to have been 'the Alex' would it?"

 "I don't know what you mean by 'the Alex'," Steve responded.  "It was Alexandria Thompson, a reporter for the LA Times."

"Please! Do you think I don't remember her?" Jesse asked in amazement.  "If her looks weren't enough, she gave me one of my favorite 'Kodak' moments of you."

Steve looked at Jesse with a puzzled expression.  "What are you talking about, Jess?"

 "I'm talking about that day at the beach house when you were showing off your macho surfing prowess while she stood in the water admiring you, and the surf caught her top and ripped it off.  I would rate your fall that day as a ten."

Steve chuckled at the memory.  "I think I was cleaning sand out of my teeth for a week."

 "That's what you get for gaping at her like a fish, are you all seeing each other again?" Jesse asked.

"No, she is working the murders, I told her I would call with information, I don't have a lot of details I can release, so I had been avoiding calling her."

 "Why, if I didn't know better I would think you were afraid of her," Jesse replied.

"I'm not afraid, Jesse, I'm just concerned she might be interested in trying 'us' again."

"Would that be such a bad thing? I seem to recall that not only was she beautiful, but she was really sweet and had a great sense of humor."

"Jesse, you're right about her, but our jobs would always have us on a collision course for disaster."

"I'll trust your judgement, Steve, but the good ones are hard to find, and you have enough difficulty even finding the not so good ones."

 "Well, thank you for that cryptic little evaluation of my life."

 "Not a problem, I'm always willing to help, and on that note, I'll go back to my original question, is there anything I can help you with on the case?"

Steve looked at him intently and a scowl covered his features.  "Are you almost done here?"

"Yes, Lois is closing tonight, so I'm done now."

 "I have to go meet Alex, you could take these files out to Dad, I'm sure he would love your help."

"Sure, that would be great," Jesse responded brightly.

"Thanks, Jesse, tell him I'll be home later."

"I'll tell him not to wait up," Jesse responded with a smirk and then ducked as a waded up napkin was tossed at his head.

**…………………**

Steve entered into the darkened interior of Mulligan's Bar.  He allowed his eyes to adjust to the lightning and spotted Alex in the far corner close to the hallway by the bathrooms. He also noticed that she had drawn the attention of a rather large man who was practically lying on her table.  He made his way through the bar and as he reached her, he spoke.  "Alex, have you made a new friend?"

Her face creased in a grateful, welcoming grin.  "Steve, I'm so glad to see you."

As Steve had drawn closer, he had decided that the large man more resembled a mountain.  That observation had proven true as the man had risen from his position on the table and reached his full height.  Steve couldn't help the slight flinch that passed through his body.

 "I don't remember inviting you to this party, bub," the mountain informed him.

"I somehow don't think the lady invited you either, _bub_," Steve replied with an unfriendly smile.  The smile quickly disappeared as he found himself ducking the meaty fist that was aimed at his face.  He didn't recover quickly enough and found his knees buckling from the fist that landed in stomach.  He moved his right arm up to block the next blow while his left one curved protectively towards his stomach.  The impact with his arm sent a shiver of pain clear up to his shoulder.  He heard what sounded like a squeak from Alex and then saw as if in slow motion, a fist headed towards his face.  His last conscious thought was his serious lack of judgment of the situation, his head then clipped the table and he slipped into unconsciousness.  If he had been more aware he might have noticed the figure that had observed the entire altercation and then faded down the hall at its conclusion.  


	6. Frequent Patient Discount

Chapter Six – Frequent Patient Discount

Steve's first awareness was a dryness in his throat, followed quickly by a pounding in his head that was keeping time with the thumping in his ribs.  He went to raise his right hand to his head and nearly yelped as it joined in with the rest of the ensemble.  He lay there for a minute, until his arm stopped twitching and then decided to brave opening his eyes.  The light in the room was dim and he was grateful, because even that made him squint.  He was in the familiar confines of Community General.  _There are so many things that are wrong with a hospital room being familiar, _he thought to himself.  He was alone so that must mean his injuries weren't too bad.  _If that's the case, then it shouldn't matter if I get up._  He moved to push his hands against the bed to sit up and then remembered the protest his right arm had made earlier.  He settled with bracing his left elbow against the bed and shoving himself up.  His head, arm and ribs all announced their displeasure with this move.  He felt a brief flare of nausea, but pushed it back down.  He slid his legs over the side of the bed, and sat for a moment to regain his composure.  Breathing as deeply as his protesting ribs would allow, he waited for his body to adjust to its new position.  He then pressed his feet flatly on the floor and stood up.  His venture into the upright world was not welcomed by his legs and they quickly buckled.  _Hello floor_, Steve thought to himself as his cheek nestled onto the cold hard tile.

"What on earth are you doing?" two voices asked in unison.

"I was hired by the hospital to inspect the wax job."  Steve knew the sarcastic comment would have been more impressive had he not been lying on the floor feeling a cold breeze make its way through the back of his hospital gown.

"Well, I would have thought you had enough to do investigating murders," was his father's rather irritated response. 

"Do you need help getting up?" Jesse inquired.

"Why no, I kinda like it here, I wouldn't dream of getting up," was Steve's overly sweet response. 

Jesse and Mark moved on opposite sides and began to assist him up.  Steve couldn't prevent the moan of pain that escaped him as his ribs and arm made contact with the helping hands.

"I'm sorry, Son, but maybe you'll stay in bed next time."

"I don't plan on there being a next time," Steve gasped as he settled back into the bed.

"Well, we all know you've never been good at planning," Jesse responded.

The glare Steve threw his way amused Jesse.  "I'm not worried; you're in no condition to back that look up."

As his pains eased and his breathing settled Steve ventured a question.  "So, what's the damage?"

"I think you've already been made intimately aware of them all, but I can make formal introductions if you'd like," Jesse answered.

"Cute, none of them hurt me as bad as your attempts at humor," Steve responded.

Jesse placed his hand over his heart.  "You wound me, all I'm trying to do is bring a little joy into your other wise dreary life."

Mark shook his head slightly and grinned.  "You've got a moderate concussion, a couple of cracked ribs and a deep tissue bruise on your right arm.  What did he hit you with?"

"His fists."

"Wow, he must have been one big, tough cookie to have done that much damage with his fists," Jesse said.

"Big is an understatement," Steve replied.  "He could have had his own zip code."

Mark chuckled lightly.  "Alex was really upset, she just left about an hour ago."

"Was she alright?" Steve asked.

"Yes, she said she would be by tomorrow," Mark replied.

"By the house right?  I'm not going to be here tomorrow," Steve responded.

"You do the police work, and we'll do the doctoring," Jesse responded while gesturing towards himself and Mark.

"Yeah right, like that ever happens," Steve replied.  "Please tell me they arrested the guy who did this."

"No, by the time the patrol car got there he was gone, but they did put an APB out on him," Mark answered.

"Well, he should be easy to spot," Steve said.  "Now, when can I go home?"

"Geez, you act like we don't take good care of you," Jesse answered.  "You should be fine to go home tomorrow."

"Great, I need to go interview Jacob Sherrard's employer."

"Ok, at no time did I say anything about going to work, I said home.  I know they are both four letter words, I realize what few remaining brain cells you have left got rattled around, but the two words sound nothing alike," Jesse responded.  "If I think you aren't going to go home and rest, I'll just keep you here."

"Fine, you win.  Are the files still at the house?"

Jesse threw up his hands in exasperation.  "Mark, I know my lips are moving, but apparently there aren't any words coming out of my mouth, or they just aren't reaching his ears."

"It's called selective listening, Jess, it takes years to perfect, if you get me out of here tomorrow I might be willing to teach it to you," Steve said with a smile.

"Home only, no work, we'll talk later about the selective listening thing, right now I want you to try and get some sleep."

"Alright.  Dad, be careful going home and I'll see you in the morning, goodnight, Jesse, and thanks."

"I will, Son, sleep well."

"Night, Steve, I'll see you in the morning," Jesse responded as he closed the door behind himself and Mark.

**………………..**

Jesse cautiously pushed open the door, and peeked in.  The lump in the bed didn't stir so he moved into the room and approached the bed.  The lump was facing him and appeared to be sleeping deeply, thus the hand that reached out and grabbed his arm startled him so completely that a high pitched shriek escaped him before he could prevent it.  The blanket on the lump rose and fell with laughter, until the tender ribs protested and ceased that activity.

Holding a tender arm to equally sensitive ribs Steve made no attempt to hide the smile on his face.  "A little jumpy this morning, aren't we?"

"That was not funny in so many ways," Jesse informed him. 

"I don't know, I enjoyed it," Steve responded with a grin.

"Obviously you are feeling better," Jesse replied.

"Yes, and I am ready to go home."

"Well, let me put on my shock face at that little revelation," Jesse responded sarcastically.

"Put on whatever face you want, just get me out of here."

"I can do that, as long as you remember that you have a rather short list of approved activities once you get there."

"I'm not a child, Jesse, I know my limitations," Steve replied.

Jesse tilted his head to one side and observed his patient.  "That knock to the head must have affected you more adversely than I thought; your memories of past events have been altered."

Steve's brows drew into a frown.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean you never follow the instructions I give you."

"I try, Jesse, I really do, but sometimes things just happen," a slightly chastised Steve responded.

"Well, let's see if we can cut down on those 'things' this time, ok?"

"I'll make sure he follows your instructions," Mark added from the doorway.

**…………………**

Steve had ventured out onto the deck to observe the activities on the beach.  He was leaning rather stiffly against the railing.  The sound of a throat being cleared behind him drew his attention and he turned around.  "Hello, Alex,"

"Steve, how are you feeling?"

"A little sore and stiff but other than that, not to bad."

She moved towards him and stopped close enough to touch him, but refrained.  "I was really scared; you hit your head awfully hard.  It made a horrible noise, sorta like slapping a dead fish on a table."

"Well, thanks for that little piece of visual imagery.  I can tell you it didn't feel real good either."

Alex giggled slightly.  "I really am sorry, I go there all the time and nothing like that has ever happened.  That was the first time I have ever seen that guy."

"Alex, it's ok, I'm fine, nothing that time won't heal."

Her smile was pure sunshine, and he found himself grinning along.  "Thanks, for not being mad, so what kind of information can you give me?" Alex asked.

Steve busted out laughing.  "Well, that didn't take long!"

Alex opened her mouth to respond but was halted when her phone rang.  "Hello.  Oh, hi, David."

Steve watched her, intently trying to determine from her conversation who David was.

"I'll be back in the office later, right now I'm talking with Steve Sloan."  As she listened to the response to that statement her brow furrowed, when she responded there was a hint of irritation in her voice.  "David, I told you it wasn't that way; I'll talk to you later, bye."

"Problems?" Steve asked.

"No, just one of the administrative staff at the paper," she replied.  "So?"

"Alex, there is not a lot I can tell you, I don't have a suspect and I haven't found any firm connections between the victims," Steve replied.

"That may not be true," Mark added as he joined them on the deck.

He was rewarded with mirrored looks of shock on Steve and Alex's faces.


	7. Front Page News

Chapter Seven – Front Page News

"What do you mean, Dad?" Steve asked.

"I've been reading through your files and I have found something odd," Mark answered.

Steve suddenly realized that Alex was still there and she had opened her notebook and was poised to begin writing.  "Dad, wait.  Alex, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Steve, you've given me nothing, I can't write a story with that, help me out here, please?"

Steve hoped his tone reflected the regret that he could not offer her more details, nor allow her to hear what his father was about to tell him.  "Alex, I really am sorry, but whatever he is about to tell me is not for public consumption at this time."

The anger that flashed through her eyes and the stiff set of her shoulders were characteristics he was familiar with.  She was furious.  She turned and stormed off the deck and they both jumped as the sound of the front door being slammed echoed through the house.

A mischievous smile played about Mark's lips.  "That went well."

Steve grinned in response.  "Well, at least it was a response I'm familiar with.  What did you find?"

"The Travel Agency that Jacob Sherrard worked for is across the street from Ray's Gym."

"So, we now have a common link, but what do we do with it?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," Mark responded.  "Amanda called."

"And?" Steve prompted.

"She thinks the needle marks are being done to throw us off, the lab results are negative for a foreign substance, and on closer examination they just barely penetrate the skin."

Steve shook his head as if trying to clear it.  "So, you mean the killer is leaving false clues?"

"It certainly looks that way," Mark responded.

"That only strengthens the thought that the victims know their killer," Steve added.  "I think it's time I visited Jacob Sherrard's employer," Steve stated as he rose from the chair with a grimace.

"Steve, you are supposed to be resting," Mark advised.

"Dad, do you really think I'm going to be able to rest?"

Mark shook his head.  "No, I suppose you won't, let me get my jacket, and I'll drive you."

**……………………**

As they pulled up in front of the travel agency Steve took note of the businesses along the block.  It was pretty typical, a florist, the gym, a doughnut shop, a cell phone business and of course the travel agency.  The normal assortment of streetside vendors were there as well, a magazine stand, a hotdog vendor and a guy signing people up for the LA Times.  That caused his thoughts to shift briefly to Alex.  He hoped she wouldn't stay mad.  He was startled from his thoughts by the door being opened.  He looked up to find his father smiling and offering a helping hand.  He reached up and grasped his arm and allowed himself to be assisted from the car.  "Thanks, Dad," he offered with a smile.

"You're welcome, just be glad you're somewhat mobile, because I sure couldn't carry you."

Mark kept a gentle hand on his back as they opened the door and entered the travel agency.  As they approached the first desk in the room Steve pulled his badge out.  "I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan with the LAPD, I need to speak with whoever is in charge."

"That would be me," a small voice squeaked.

Steve looked towards the direction the voice came from to find a small timid looking man.

"I'm, Herbert Denner, I manage the travel agency."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Denner, this is my father, Doctor Mark Sloan, he is a consultant with the police department.  Is there someplace we can talk in private?"

"Yes, we have a conference room in the back, please follow me."

As they settled around the table Steve asked his first question.  "Mr. Denner, when was the last time you saw Jacob Sherrard?"

"Two days ago."

"Did he seem alright?" Steve asked.

"He seemed just fine, it was a busy day, so I only talked with him briefly."

"Had he been seeing anyone?" Mark asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know, I try and stay out of my employee's personal lives."

The conversation had continued for a few more moments with the only useful piece of information being that Jacob Sherrard was good friends with Colleen Banister another agent with the company.  They usually had lunch together and if he was seeing anyone she would know.  Unfortunately she had left the day of the murder to serve as a guide on a three week African Safari. 

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Denner," Steve offered as he handed him his card.  "If Ms Banister calls in please have her contact me."

As Steve and Mark made their way to the car Steve swayed slightly.  He found himself quickly being scrutinized by his father's watchful eyes.  "I'm fine, just a little touch of dizziness."

"Which is exactly why you are supposed to be home resting," Mark replied.

"Hey, it's not like I'm out without medical supervision, I have a doctor with me."

"Yes, and the doctor says we are going home, I shouldn't have allowed this trip in the first place."

"No harm done, Dad, but I think I am ready to go home."

**……………………..**

As Steve slowly opened his eyes he took note of the bright sunshine peeking through the blinds.  He cautiously stretched and found that things seemed better this morning.  He rolled to one side and read the illuminated clock.  Seven AM.  By the time he washed up and ate it would be time to leave for work.  He carefully got up from the bed and made his way to the shower.

**………………………**

Steve stopped on the top step and sniffed the air appreciatively.  It smelled like bacon.  He walked into the kitchen to find Mark hovering over a skillet and humming softy to himself.  "Morning, Dad."

"Good morning, yourself.  How are you feeling?"

"Much better, and hungry," Steve responded with a grin.

"Breakfast is almost ready, will you grab the paper for me?  I haven't had time to get it yet."

"Sure," Steve responded.  He walked back to the front door, and carefully stooped down and retrieved the paper.  He unfolded it and started flipping towards the sports section.  It was then that what he had briefly glanced at on the front page registered with him.  He flipped back quickly and the read the headline.  The loudly voiced oath that sprung from his lips left no doubt as to his opinion of the headline.

Mark hearing his son had rushed from the kitchen to find him frozen like a statute, his hands gripping the paper so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.  "Steve, what is it?"  When he got no response he took the paper from his son's grasp and read the front page.  "No," Mark said as he looked at his son with concerned eyes.


	8. The Bitter Taste of Betrayal

Chapter Eight – The Bitter Taste of Betrayal

Steve stood stunned.  He felt like his feet weighed a ton and there was no way he could lift them. 

Mark stood watching his son. He did not like his shell shocked expression or the waver that was clearly visible in his legs.  "Steve, come sit down."

Steve looked up and as he began to move his phone rang.  "Sloan. Yes, Captain," he paused briefly as he looked at his watch.  "I can be there by then," Steve responded as he closed his phone.  He then looked at his father.  "How could she, Dad?"

Mark shook his head as he once again glanced at the headline. '_Serial killer leaving false clues, police have few leads.'  _She must have pretended to leave.  She had taken advantage of their trust.  "I should never have brought it up with her still here."

"It's not your fault, Dad, I wouldn't have believed her capable of this."  Steve glanced down at the one paragraph that he knew was going to haunt him.  '_A source close to the investigation confirmed for me that the police are looking for a serial killer that has been pricking the necks of the victims with a needle, to give police the impression that they had been injected with an incapacitating drug.  The police now believe these men knew their killer.'  _The captain's tone did not bode well for him, he would be lucky if he still had a job when this day was over.  "I have to go to the precinct."

"Well, you certainly aren't going alone."

Steve smiled his appreciation.  "I'll go down and get my jacket."

**………………..**

Steve sat silently waiting for the monologue to conclude.  The Captain had been speaking non-stop for nearly thirty minutes.  His tone had increased in intensity and volume as he had continued.  Steve was pretty sure he could have stayed at home and still been able to hear him.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?" the Captain asked.

"I didn't tell her, Sir, she was at the house, I thought she had left, she must have stuck around and listened to our conversation."

"It's my fault, Captain Newman," Mark added.  "I was the one who brought the subject up, and I didn't make sure she had left."

"That may very well be true, Doctor Sloan, but your son reports to me and you don't, he is the one the Chief is screaming about."

"So, what happens now?" Steve asked.

"You owe me, is what happens, I really stuck my neck out for you, I told the Chief you would have a good reason, I suggest you take the rest of today and come up with one, now go home, you look horrible," Captain Newman responded.

Steve smiled.  "Thanks, Captain, I appreciate it."

**………………..**

"Well that went better than I expected," Steve said as he dropped carefully into the passenger seat of the car.

"I agree, but my concern now is getting you home and into bed."

"Ok, Dad, but I have one other stop I need to make."

"Let me guess, the LA Times?"

"You guessed correctly," Steve responded.  "But, I want to go see her alone," Steve added as he glanced at his father.

Mark was, as always, overwhelmed with the need to protect his son.  He often battled with controlling that need and allowing his son to lead his own life.  "I'll wait in the car…but not for long," he added with an affectionate grin.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Steve responded with an equally affectionate grin.

Steve leaned against the wall of the elevator.  He was in pain, angry and more than a little hurt.  The ding indicated he had reached the floor and when the door opened he surveyed the 5th floor.  He saw her desk over in the right hand corner by the window.  He moved into the room and walked towards her desk.  As if sensing his presence, she looked up and he saw the shock register in her eyes.  He stopped just in front of her desk.  "Alex."

She dropped her eyes down, and hesitated slightly before raising them and responding.  "I needed this story, Steve."

"Well, at least you aren't going to insult my intelligence by pretending you didn't screw me.  Is your story worth my career?"

"Yes,…no, I'm sorry," she responded.

"Why, Alex? I would have shared what I could; you didn't have to do this."

"Steve, you couldn't understand.  You are the 'Golden Boy', always successful at what you do, always having the loving support of your family and friends."

Steve looked at her in amazement.  "You are so wrong, do you think everything has been handed to me, I've worked hard for all I have and I've worked even harder to earn the respect and trust of my family and friends.  When you didn't step forward to clear me the last time I chalked it up to your inability to betray a trust.  I guess I was wrong.  It was better press to have it reported that information had been leaked and that you were involved with the lead detective.  It sensationalized the story.  The reason I have the support of those I love is because they know I would never betray them, you have made it clear that is a trait you are completely unfamiliar with!"  He stopped as he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes.  "Goodbye, Alex, good luck with your story, but this source of information has dried up permanently."  As he turned and walked towards the elevator he never saw the trembling hand she reached towards him.

Steve smiled as the elevator door opened to reveal the ground floor.  There poised to push the up button was his father.  "It's, ok, Dad, let's go home."

Mark smiled his agreement and they headed for the car.

**………………..**

Alex sat at her desk with a trail of tears flowing down her face.  She ignored the curious looks of her co-workers.  She knew that everything Steve had said was true.  She had sold her soul to further her career.  In the process, she had destroyed the possibility of a relationship with a man she felt she could have loved.  Knowing whatever action she took could not change that fact, she still reached across her desk and flipped through her Rolodex.  When she found the name, she took a deep breath and dialed the number.

**………………..**

A subdued group sat around the table at the beach house looking through the files.  Jesse and Amanda had joined Mark and Steve for dinner and a brainstorming session.  Their mission was now two-fold.  They needed to try and identify the murderer and they needed to come up with a way to save Steve from the mess that Alexandria Thompson had created.

"Steve, have you noticed that these guys all are similar in their body build?" Amanda asked.  When she didn't get an answer she looked up to find him staring out into space.  His lack of response had also drawn the attention of Jesse and Mark.

Mark's brow creased with worry.  Steve had attempted to rest when they got home, but had been unsuccessful and his face reflected the discomfort he was still experiencing.  "Son?" Mark prompted.

Steve gave himself a mental shake.  "Yeah, Dad?"

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Dad, my mind was somewhere else.  Did I miss something?"

Mark nodded toward Amanda.  "Amanda was just noticing that all of the victims had a similar build."

"Oh, no, I hadn't noticed that," Steve responded.

"Hey, you know what else?" Jesse added.

"What?" Mark prompted.

"They could all be a mirror image of Steve as well."

Steve slowly lifted his eyes and a smile began to curve his lips.  Mark noticed the change in his son's demeanor and felt a flutter of concern. 

"What, Steve?"

"I think I know a way out of this, something that will make the Chief happy," Steve said.

**………………..**

Alex hung up the phone and drummed her fingers lightly on her desk.  She had been irritated when she had been forced to leave a message earlier and the call she had just received in response to that message had not made her feel any better.  The Chief had told her that Steve was in the clear.  She was confused as to why, but the Chief had been tight-lipped about the details, only telling her that Lieutenant Sloan would be contacting her,   It was late and most everyone else had gone home but she still sat at her desk.

"Ms Thompson?"

Alex looked up through eyes that were moist with unshed tears.  "Yes, David?"

"I'm leaving for the day and won't be here tomorrow, I have to work one of the new subscriptions booths tomorrow."

"Ok, David, thanks for letting me know," She offered with a watery smile.

David lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet slightly.  "You were right to do the story, you're much too talented a writer to not have a story like this.  Don't feel badly.  I know he was here today.  Even if the office grapevine hadn't spread the information I would have known by looking at your face.  You look the same way you did the last time he hurt you."

"David, please, I don't want to be rude, but it's really none of your business, and you seem to have misunderstood anyway.  Steve was not the one in the wrong, I was."

"Why do you always take up for him?"

"David, I will not talk about this with you, please go home."

"Ok, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude into your private life."

"It's ok, David, good luck tomorrow signing up new customers."

As David walked away he felt the anger well up inside him.  He hated Steve Sloan, he had hurt her again.

**………………..**

"Steve, I am not happy about this," Mark said.

"Dad, look, it's the best answer I can come up with.  Alex used me, so I'm going to return the favor.  She wants a big story then I'll let her have one.  Besides, the Chief has already approved it.  I just need to call Alex and work out the details."

Mark felt the fear welling up inside of him.  It was so strong that it could easily have overwhelmed him.  He observed the tall man in front of him.  His son, his friend, the best part of his life, the one thing he had left of Katherine.  He knew he would not be able to handle it if anything happened to him.  This plan scared him beyond words.


	9. The Plan Revealed

Chapter Nine – The Plan Revealed

The tension in the room was palpable.  No one wanted to be there.  Mark, Steve, Captain Newman and the Chief sat on one side of the table in an interview room at the precinct.  Alexandria Thompson and her editor Sam Theroux sat on the other.  

"I won't jeopardize my journalistic integrity," Alex said with a slight quaver in her voice.

Steve looked at her with disbelieving eyes.  "Not to be rude, Alex, but I think you left that at our house when you eavesdropped on our conversation."

"I was investigating a story; I used whatever means that were necessary to gather information."

Mark felt his temper rise.  "Ms Thompson, we are not here to debate your integrity or lack thereof.  We are giving you an opportunity to be involved in this case and the investigation first hand.  I can't imagine that helping to catch a murderer would look bad on your resume."

"Ms Thompson?  It used to be Alex."

"Yes, well 'used to be' is the key phrase.  I am usually more formal with business acquaintances." Mark replied.

Alex looked at him with a slight smile.  "I thought I was more than a business acquaintance?"

Mark chose to ignore the comment.  "The plan is fairly simple.  Steve resembles the victims, when you publish the story you will include a full body photo of Steve.  The intent of your article will be to taunt the killer into coming after Steve."  As Mark finished, his voice wavered slightly.

"I see, so you want me to be responsible for painting a bulls-eye on Steve's back?" Alex asked.

"Alex, save us the pretense that you really care," Steve spoke.  "Dad, is right, no matter how it works out it will be a huge boost to your career, and we all know that's all that matters to you."

"That's not true," Alex responded as unshed tears filled her eyes.

"Mr. Theroux, I'm tired of this dance, is the LA Times going to cooperate or not?" the Chief asked.

"Well, based on your veiled threat to make it difficult for my reporters to get any information on future cases, I would say I have no choice.  Will you provide the picture of Lieutenant Sloan, or do I need to have one of our photographers take one?"

"We'll let your photographer take the picture, Lieutenant Sloan will come to your office as soon as we finish here," Captain Newman replied.

**………………..**

Steve once again traveled the familiar route to Alex's desk at the LA Times.  He had finally convinced his father that he was fine on his own and that he was needed more at the hospital.  It had not been easy; Mark was suffering from a severe case of over-protectiveness.  As he neared Alex's desk he paused and waited; she was engrossed in a conversation with a young man.  Steve leaned against the nearest desk and shoved his hands in his pockets.  His ribs gave a quick reminder that they were still unhappy and an involuntary grimace crossed his face.  He looked back towards her desk to see that Alex had noticed him and was motioning for him to join them.  When he got closer he tried to identify the look on the young man's face.  It almost looked hostile, but Steve was pretty sure he had never met the man before.

"Steve, this is David Larkin, he does a little bit of everything for the paper.  David, this is Lieutenant Steve Sloan of the LAPD."

Steve extended his hand to David Larkin and was surprised when a reciprocating hand wasn't offered.  After a moments' hesitation, during which Steve was sure he saw anger in the man's eyes, he offered his hand.  He then mumbled some excuse and left the two of them alone.

"Do you want to read the first draft of the article?" Alex asked.

"Sure," Steve responded as he sat down in a chair by her desk.

Alex silently observed the man who had sat down beside her.  The long eyelashes that fell over clear blue eyes, the tanned face, the strong nose and those perfect lips.  Add in the rock hard body and you had one incredible specimen.  Once you got past the physical attractiveness you weren't disappointed.  He was a true gentleman.  One of the best men she had ever met and she had blown whatever chance she might have had of furthering her relationship with him.

_In an exclusive interview with this reporter, Lieutenant Steve Sloan, the lead investigator in the case, outlined the department's profile of the killer.  He probably lives alone, has never been married and earns a below average income.  Lieutenant Sloan also had a couple of personal observations.  He felt that the man they were looking for had an inferiority complex.  The murderer probably has little or no luck with women, and is more than likely impotent and blames his lack of success on other more attractive men.    To quote Lieutenant Sloan, 'This guy couldn't get a date if he was the last guy on earth.'_

"Laid it on a little thick didn't you?" Steve asked as he finished reading the article.

"Hey, you're the one who wants to be a target, I'm just trying to oblige."

Steve glanced back through the article.  The pertinent details were there.  They wanted to taunt the killer, so they had manufactured quotes from Steve that questioned the intelligence of the killer.  Steve's accomplishments on the force were also detailed with false bravado.  All in all, he came off looking like an egotistical jerk.  Even he didn't like himself.

"It looks good to me, where do I go to get the picture taken?"  Steve asked.

"Come with me, the photographer is Ann Diaz," Alex indicated as she stood up and made her way to the back of the press room.

Steve rose and followed her.  They stopped when they reached a small cluttered area.  "Ann?"  Alex called.

A small woman with a bright smile turned at the sound of her name.  "Hi, Alex, is this my subject?"

"Yes, Ann, this is Lieutenant Steve Sloan."

Ann looked him up and down appraisingly.  "This should be an easy shot, no touchups needed to make the subject look good," she said with an appreciative grin.

Steve smiled in return.  "Where do you want me?"

"Lieutenant, you really don't want to ask me that," she responded with a wolfish look.

Steve couldn't help the red that tinged his cheeks.

Alex was amazed she didn't think he could be any more attractive, but shyness transformed his older masculine features to a softer boyish look.  He looked absolutely adorable.

"Lieutenant, take that jacket off so we can get a good look at you," Ann instructed.

Steve was feeling slightly uncomfortable.  Ann had a gleam in her eyes that made him feel naked.  As he complied with her request, his level of discomfort increased.

"My, my, it only gets better when more layers are removed.  Sorta like finding a tasty filling in the middle of a nicely decorated cake," Ann observed as she moved in closer to her subject.  "Lieutenant, cross your arms across your chest and stand with your legs slightly apart."

Steve moved to comply and was amazed at how Ann Diaz's demeanor had changed.  The wolfish grin and suggestive comments had been replaced by a focused professional photographer.  She worked with speed and accuracy, moving Steve like a piece in a board game.  In no time she was finished.

"Alright, Good Looking, we are done with this, but you better give me your phone number in case some of these don't turn out," she informed him with a wink.

Steve flushed again as he put his jacket back on.  He glanced up to see if she was serious and saw the playful smile on her lips.  He grinned in return and thanked her for her time before walking away with Alex.

**………………..**

As Steve shut the door of the beach house behind him he leaned back against it and closed his eyes.  He was so tired and he saw no relief in sight.  In fact, he was positive the worst was to come.  He pushed himself up and made his way into the dining room to find Mark sitting at the table.  Files were spread everywhere.  His glasses were pushed to the end of his nose.  A board sat on an easel with a picture of each of the victims attached.  Beneath each photo was information that Mark had retrieved from the papers in front of him.  He was concentrating so intently he hadn't even heard Steve come in.  An affectionate smile graced Steve's face.  "Hey, Dad," he greeted.

Mark wrinkled his nose and returned the smile.  "Hello, Son, how did things go at the paper?"

"Fine, the article makes me look like a complete jerk."

Mark chuckled and then quickly turned serious.  He still didn't like this plan.  That's why he had been dissecting the information contained in the files, if he could identify the murderer he could halt this before it went any further.  He pulled his mind back and looked up at his son.  "You did ok with Alex?"

"Yes, you know it was really weird, she was talking with one of her co-workers when I got there, he was openly hostile, and to my knowledge we had never met."

Mark furrowed his brow.  "Really?  What was his name? Maybe it will ring a bell with me."

"David Larkin."

Something about the name sounded vaguely familiar, but Mark couldn't quite place it.

"I don't recall Alex ever mentioning the name, maybe he was just having a bad day."

"I guess it could be that."  Steve moved closer to the board his father had put together.  "I see you've been busy, please tell me you have found the killer and all I need to do is go arrest them."

"I'm working on it; I still don't like playing any part in making you a target.  There is something in these files that I'm missing and I intend to find it.  You, on, the other hand, need to go lay down before you fall down."

Steve nodded his agreement.  "I am pretty tired, I'll go take a quick nap, and then come back up and help you."

"As long as that quick nap takes eight hours," Mark responded with a crooked smile.

**………………..**

The figure sat hunched over a bowl of cereal reading the morning edition of the paper.  "You didn't have to go to all this trouble to get my attention Lieutenant Sloan; I had already decided you would be next.  You won't get off as easy as the others though, because you are also my last." 


	10. Has The Last Victim Been Claimed?

Chapter Ten – Has The Last Victim Been Claimed?

When Steve topped the steps to the upper level he was greeted by the sound of voices coming from the kitchen.  _Who could be here this early? _he asked himself.  He sauntered, into the room, and quirked a smile at the scene that greeted him.  Mark was busy preparing breakfast, with an autopsy report propped up to the side of the stove.  Jesse and Amanda were re-enacting one of the murders based on Mark's instructions.

"Oh, hey, Steve," Jesse greeted.  "Amanda is just displaying her abilities with an ink pen."

Amanda stood directly behind Jesse with pen poised at the base of Jesse's neck.  "Good morning, Steve."

"When did the two of you get here?" Steve asked.

"About an hour ago," Jesse responded.  "Your dad bribed us with breakfast, not that it was necessary."

Steve moved his gaze to his father who stood looking at him with blue eyes twinkling.  "I wanted to work on the case before we went to work."

Steve dropped his eyes slightly humbled by the sacrifices that he knew had been made.  Mark had been up late reading files, yet he had found the time to make arrangements with Jesse and Amanda.  Jesse had worked a double shift late into the night, but as always, was ready to help.  Amanda was taking time away from CJ and Dion to be here.  "Thanks, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, and now that you are up, we can eat," Jesse said with a gleam in his eyes.  "I wanted to wake you up an hour ago, but Amanda wouldn't let me."

Steve smiled.  "I'll set the table."

**………………..**

Steve walked into the precinct unaware of the smiles that were hidden behind the hands of his co-workers.  As he got closer to his desk he noticed a leggy blonde draped rather decorously in the chair beside his desk.  Her dress was cut so low in the top and the front slit was so high that they almost met in the middle.  He had never seen that much body visible except in a bathing suit.  "Close your mouth, your tongue is dragging on the floor," Steve whispered to Aaron Dunbar as he walked by.

Aaron Dunbar snapped his mouth shut and offered a lopsided smile.  "Well, you have to admit, it's certainly a nice way to start your day."

Steve grinned and proceeded on to his desk.  "May I help you?"

Green eyes that were slightly slanted in the corners appraised the individual in front of her.  "The paper doesn't do you justice."

"Excuse me?" Steve responded.

"I said, the paper doesn't do you justice, you're much better looking in person."

Steve tried to ignore the snickers that he heard behind him.  "I'm sorry, things are pretty hectic around here, what did you need?"

The look in her eyes told Steve that he had asked the wrong question.  She lazily uncrossed her legs and glided out of the chair.  As she stood up she brushed against the entire length of his body and stopped with her hands resting on his chest.  She leaned in close to his ear and purred.  "I don't think you want me to answer that here, maybe we should talk in private," she responded with a suggestive wink.

Steve stepped back a couple of steps.  "Ma'am, did you have some official police business you needed to discuss?"

"Why, yes I do, I work at the coffee shop by the gym and I knew all three of the victims."

Steve looked at her intently.  "What's your name?"

"Sara Meeker."

Steve had to stifle the smile that threatened to engulf his lips, never had a last name been so far off the mark.  "Ms Meeker, if you would be so kind to join me in an interview room?" Steve asked as he motioned towards the closest available room. 

As she turned away, she once again moved in closely to Steve and brushed against him then walked across the room with a sway to her hips that seemed to shake the entire room.

Steve was pulled from his trance by a voice close to his ear.  "Now whose tongue is on the floor?" asked Aaron Dunbar.

Steve self consciously reached towards his mouth as if he really wondered if his tongue had been hanging out.  He looked towards the door to find Sara Meeker framed by the opening.   Her posture was one of invitation.  "Coming?" she asked.

The snickers were back but Steve ignored them.  "Detective Dunbar, would you like to join me in the interview room?"

"Coward," Aaron Dunbar said as he walked by.

"No, careful," Steve responded as he fell into step beside him.

**………………..**

"How did you know the victims, Ms Meeker?" Steve asked.

With a smile meant to dazzle, Sara Meeker looked at the two men in the room.  "Cliff and Jake were regulars, Brent had just started stopping in."

"What can you tell us about them?" Aaron asked.

"Cliff and Jake were big flirts, but they were harmless.  I hadn't really gotten a chance to know Brent.  He seemed like a sweet guy."

"Did you ever see any of them involved in any kind of altercation?" Steve inquired.

"No, they came in, got their coffee, chatted for a bit, and then left."

"Could you provide us with the names of any other regulars?" Steve requested.

"Only first names, we aren't real big on last names.  Most of them come in every morning."

The conversation had continued is much the same manner until Steve realized that were starting to repeat themselves.  "Ms Meeker, we appreciate you coming in, and I think that's all for now.  Either myself or Detective Dunbar will be by to talk with some of the other regulars."

"I'll be glad to introduce you to them, Lieutenant; I do think I should give you some background information on each of them though, how about over dinner?"

Steve forced a smile.  "I don't think that will be necessary, Detective Dunbar will be at the shop in the morning to talk with the individuals you identify, again thanks for coming by."  As Steve turned to leave the room he found Aaron Dunbar mouthing the word coward.  He grinned, gave a slight nod and continued on.

**………………..**

Steve turned from retrieving an order from the kitchen to find Alex watching him intently.

"Hi, Steve."

"Alex, did you want to place an order?"

"No, do you have a minute?"

Steve gestured down the counter at all the full stools and then out towards the main dining area that was at capacity.  "Alex, I'm a little busy right now."

"Can I wait till you close?"

Steve glanced at his watch.  "That's going to be another couple of hours."

"That's fine, I think I will place an order," she stated as she slid onto a stool that had just become vacant.

The rest of the evening progressed quickly and Steve was aware of Alex watching him the entire evening.  For, Steve, being at Bob's was relaxing.  Though his cop instincts were never far away he was much more at ease while working at the restaurant. 

Alex had gone to Bob's to eat before, but she had never had the opportunity to see Steve work.  He was a different person.  He normally came off as somewhat stiff and serious, but here his smile came free and easy.  He more resembled the carefree surfer, than the tough hardened cop.  The transformation was incredible and made him even more attractive.  She had watched him cater to the elderly, talk sports and slap backs with the men, and openly flirt with the women.  The repercussions for her actions had been further driven home as she had watched him and fallen a little more in love.

"Alex?"

She jumped as she heard Steve's voice.  "I'm sorry, I must have zoned out for a minute."  As she raised her eyes to look at him she was surprised to see a gentle smile on his lips.

"What did you want?"

"I wanted to talk about…well you know."

The smile disappeared and Steve stood silently watching her.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the counter.  "Forgive me I've had a long day so I'm probably easily confused.  From looking at you it almost appears that you regret betraying me."

Alex looked down at her clasped hands.  When she looked back up her expression was one of hopefulness.  'Steve, I am sorry.  It was stupid, irresponsible, and any other words you want to fill in."

"I have a couple, but this is all pointless.  I need some time.  Alex, I let you get close and it was a mistake.  I'll get over it, but it's not going to happen tonight.   Can you back off, please?"  Steve asked.

Alex had been startled by the transformation, the relaxed man that she had observed all night was gone, in his place was the hardened homicide detective.

"Sure, I deserve your anger, but please remember I am genuinely sorry.  I guess I'll go now."  She then slid off the stool and left Steve still leaning against the counter with a frown marring his features.

**………………..**

The figure had been standing in the shadows for some time now. As the woman left it was obvious that she was crying, anger flared within and was directed to the man left alone inside the restaurant. _Aren't very chivalrous are you, Lieutenant Sloan, making a beautiful lady cry? You really shouldn't work alone at night, bad things can happen. Since you are my last I have special plans for you. _The thoughts were interrupted by the decision to move toward the back of the restaurant and wait for Steve to walk out the back door to the dumpster with the evening's garbage. The homework had been worthwhile, the cop's routine, although delayed by the lovely lady was now back on schedule and taking up a position in a corner, not far from the dumpster, the shadowy figure fingered the weapon that wouldn't have to wait long to be used.

Steve exited the restaurant and stopped in front of the dumpster.  As he raised the lid up and flipped it over the bang as it collided with the back coincided with a sting along his right side.  His first thought was that he had pulled a muscle.  The sting increased to an ache which was quickly replaced by a knee weakening pain.  He reached a hand to his side and felt a wetness then brought it back up in front of his face.  _Blood?_The weak knees buckled and he fell forward towards the dumpster.   


	11. Frequent Patient Discount Upgrade

Chapter Eleven – Frequent Patient Discount Upgrade

Steve slowly swam back to awareness.  A persistent ache permeated his side.  The pain in his head that had been his companion since the incident in the bar made its presence felt with a vengeance.  He carefully rolled onto his left side and lifted a hand to his forehead.  He felt a sticky warm liquid.  _Damn._  His next thought centered on his assailant.  He needed to get up and back inside the restaurant.  He pushed against the ground with his left arm and managed to achieve a sitting position.  The movement had pulled at the wound on his side and he felt the fresh flow of a warm liquid running along the waist band of his pants.  Gritting his teeth he moved to his knees, then using the garbage dumpster he pulled himself upright.  He leaned heavily against the dumpster before walking a less than straight line back inside Bob's.  As he cleared the door he fell back against it closing it with his body weight, he secured the lock and stumbled towards the office.  He dropped into the chair and reached for the phone.  He dialed the number of the beach house and waited for his father to answer.  Mark picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Dad, I need….," a wave of pain cut him off.

"Steve?" Mark questioned, concern suddenly evident in his voice.

"Dad, I've been shot."

"What!" Mark exclaimed.  "Steve, where are you?"

"I'm at Bob's, hurry, Dad," as he dropped once again into the dark void of unconsciousness.

"Steve….,Steve, can you hear me….,Steve, I'm on my way!  Mark grabbed his keys and coat and ran to the door.  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he ran, he made two phone calls one to 911 for the police and an ambulance and the other to Jesse.  He prayed that he had not yet left the hospital and would be there to take care of Steve.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he answered and said he would be there waiting.

Mark had broken numerous traffic laws and reached Bob's in record time.  The paramedics were still unloading their gear as he came screeching into the parking lot.  When he thought back on it later, he had no recollection of what happened after that.  His concern for his son was so great that he blew past the paramedics without even acknowledging their presence.  He dodged the outstretched arms of the police officer who tried to stop him.

"Sir, we haven't secured the scene yet," the officer shouted as Mark flew by him.

Mark raced forward screaming Steve's name.  The lack of response sent a shiver of fear down his spine that nearly incapacitated him.  He continued through the restaurant until he reached the office and stopped abruptly on the threshold.  Steve sat with his head resting on his arms which were folded on the desk top.  If not for the phone call Mark would have thought his son had fallen asleep while working on paperwork. 

An officer was leaning over feeling his neck for a pulse and Mark felt the other officer move in behind him.

"Is it ok for the paramedics to come in?" the officer asked.  The other officer nodded yes.

"Sir, we need to get in there," the paramedic said.

Mark jumped as he realized he was blocking the door and preventing his son from receiving medical care.  He followed them into the room and watched as they gently sat him back in the chair.  Mark gasped as he saw the blood staining Steve's shirt.  With infinite care the paramedics cut away his shirt and placed a bandage on his side and after a quick check of his head they moved him to the gurney and back out to the waiting ambulance.  Mark had watched it all with a strange detachment.  He had found himself unable to even ask any questions.  He stood still staring at the desk.  He was finally pulled from the fog by a hand touching his arm.

"Sir, we need to go, what hospital did you want us to take your friend to?"

"He's my son, and please take him to Community General."

**………………..**

Mark walked beside the gurney with a hand resting on Steve's arm.  He had still not regained consciousness.  Mark smiled gratefully as he saw Jesse coming towards them.

"How is he?" Jesse asked.

"Bullet wound to the right side and a head injury," replied the paramedic.  He has been unconscious since we got there.  His pupils are slightly dilated.

"Ok, thanks, let's get him into trauma three, Mark I'll come to the lounge as soon as I have completed my exam."

He then followed the gurney into the exam room.  "Steve, can you hear me?" Jesse asked as he moved the bandage off the bullet wound in his side.  The bullet had made a furrow that got deeper as it had traveled across his side.  Jesse sighed in relief, it was not that bad.  A couple of sutures on the deep end and it should be fine.  The head wound by itself didn't look bad, but it followed closely on the heels of Steve's bar altercation

 "Let's get a CT scan, and clean both these wounds up, I'll be right back."

**………………..**

Jesse walked into the lounge to find Mark standing and staring out the window.  "Mark?"

Jesse saw his shoulder's droop slightly and then he took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

"How bad?"

"The gunshot is a flesh wound, he's gone to get a CT scan for his head.  I think everything will be fine."

"Has he regained consciousness yet?"

"No, but that's not unexpected.  He has had two head traumas in a relatively short period of time."

"He should have been more careful.  He asked us all to participate in making him a target and he can't even take simple precautions?" Mark voiced with anger invading his tone.

"Mark, Steve is careful, but the only way to prevent this would be to never leave the house and that is not who he is.  Innocent people are being murdered and he wants to catch the culprit.  I seem to recall a time or two in the past when you have been lax in your own personal safety.  We had to stand by while you made yourself the target.  Though concerned and at times a little angry Steve has always been supportive"

"It's not the same, Jesse."

"Why, because you're the one doing the worrying?  You don't know how many times I have watched him while you are carrying out one of your schemes.  It tears him up because he knows that if things don't go perfectly, that even as close as he is, he couldn't stop you from being harmed."

"He never said anything."

"He wouldn't, because he knows that it is part of what makes you who you are.  The willingness to make sacrifices to help right a wrong.  He can't say anything because it's a trait you share and how can he ask you to act differently than he would?  If the situations were reversed would you have refused to do it?"

Mark stood silently and considered all that Jesse had said.  He was right of course, but that still didn't change the fact that a parent had a right to have different standards for their children.  He smiled at the young man who stood in front of him.   "Jesse, you're right, but remember the old saying 'Do as I say, not as I do', I only want to keep him safe."

"I know, Mark, believe me, that's all I want as well, but we can't change who he is, and he became that person to some extent by following the examples you set."

"So you're saying this is all my fault?" Mark asked with a smile.

Jesse looked into the face of his mentor trying to gauge his mood and realized that the anger had passed.  "No, the fault lies with the individual who pulled the trigger."

"Did anybody ever tell you that you would make a fine therapist?" Mark asked.

Jesse's response was interrupted.  "Dr. Travis, Mr. Sloan is back in the exam room," a nurse explained.

"Ok, thanks, Mark let me get him sutured up and, read these films and, I'll be back."

"Thanks, Jesse."

**………………..**

Jesse had been pleased with what the films had shown him.  No serious damage was visible.  He had numbed the wound in Steve's side and was suturing the area when a slight head movement caught his attention.  After finishing the last suture and motioning for the nurse to bandage the area, he moved up by Steve's head.  There were definite signs that he was struggling back towards full consciousness.  "Nurse, can you get Dr. Sloan, please?"

Jesse reached out and laid a hand on Steve's shoulder.  'Steve, can you hear me?"

The eyelids jumped, the mouth opened to moisten dry lips, and the brow furrowed slightly.  "Steve, come on, your Dad is on the way in here and it would do him good to see you awake.  Actually, it would do me good as well."  Again, he saw the reactions that indicated Steve was coming around.  This time when the eyelids jumped, he caught a brief glimpse of blue.  As he prepared to offer more encouragement Mark entered the room and stopped on the other side of Steve.

Mark reached a hand and rested it on Steve's forehead.  "Steve, you need to wake up now."  The reactions this time were more prominent, and the blue eyes were suddenly visible.  Mark smiled.  "Hello."

Steve tried to speak, but ended up coughing instead.  He closed his eyes and swallowed to bring some moisture into his throat.  He opened them back up and locked gazes with his father.  His expression reflected his confusion.  "Dad, what happened?"

Mark moved the hand from his forehead down to his shoulder and squeezed lightly.  "You had a little accident at Bob's."

Steve frowned.  His thoughts were jumbled.  He closed his eyes as he tried to remember and organize what had happened.  He remembered being at Bob's and talking with Alex, then taking the trash out.  Like a light switch had been flipped, the rest came back in an instant.  "I was shot when I took the trash out," he stated simply.

"You were?" Jesse asked looking at Mark for confirmation.

Mark shrugged his shoulders; he had been intent on getting his son to the hospital and had not asked any questions.

"How bad?" Steve questioned.

"Not bad, but it will be painful, you also managed to crack your head again.  You know it might be advisable for you to start wearing your football helmet all the time," Jesse offered.

Even with his fogged mind, Steve recognized what Jesse was trying to do.  He smiled and mouthed a grateful thank you. 

"You're welcome, how about we get you into a regular room?"

Steve braved a slight nod of his damaged head and turned to once again focus on his father.  He noticed the lines of worry and fatigue around his eyes and the strained tightness of his lips.  He felt a flash of guilt because he knew he was responsible.  "Dad, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Mark questioned.

"For putting you through this."

"Steve, I won't lie and say it isn't difficult, but you're going to be ok, and that's all that matters."

**……………...**

Steve awoke to sunlight streaming through the hospital window.  He blinked to help focus his eyes then looked around the room.  He was alone.  He attempted to stretch and instantly regretted it.  The dull ache in his side he had noticed when he woke up flared to a raging pain.  He slowed his breathing and squeezed his eyes shut while he waited for the agony to lessen.  When he opened his eyes again he found himself being observed by a pair of soft brown eyes.  "Hello, Amanda."

"Good afternoon," she responded.

'Afternoon, how long have I been here?"

"You were brought in around 1AM this morning, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, as long as I don't move."

"Well, I see a problem with that, because knowing you, I doubt that you plan on staying still."

Steve chuckled.  "Where's Dad?"

"I sent him to the cafeteria to get something to eat and then hopefully go home for awhile, I told him I would sit with you."

"I don't need a babysitter, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Really, well I think based on the number of times you end up here that would be a debatable statement."

Steve gave her a glare that held no malice.  "Very funny, I don't end up here that often."

She smiled sweetly as if humoring a child.  "How about a late lunch?"

As Steve was still considering her question a rumble sounded from his stomach.  "I guess the answer is yes."

**………………..**

Steve had eaten his lunch, grateful for Amanda's company.  She had left a short time later to get home to the boys and he was considering turning the TV on when the door to his room opened.  He turned and was surprised to see the Chief.

"Lieutenant Sloan," he greeted.

"Sir," Steve responded.

"How are we feeling?"

Looking at the Chief, Steve decided he was feeling just fine.  Steve on the other hand was pretty miserable.  "Fine, sir."

" We need to take advantage of this latest development."

"Ok, what did you have in mind?"

"We don't know if this attack was perpetrated by our killer, or just someone who took offense to seeing your face in the paper, but we can't take a chance.  Ms Thompson and her photographer are out in the hall.  We need to take some pictures and come up with some more inflammatory quotes for tomorrow's paper."

"No," Mark spoke for the doorway.  "I won't have my son put in any more danger."

The Chief smiled.  "Doctor Sloan, it's not your decision, and I think we both know what your son will decide don't we?"

Steve contemplated the two figures that stood in front of him.  Either way he went it was going to be unpleasant.


	12. Injuries To The Heart Are Forgiven

Chapter Twelve – Injuries To The Heart Are Forgiven

Mark sat reading the rough draft of the article that was scheduled to appear in tomorrow's LA Times.  He found one line particularly disturbing because it was so unlike his son.

_Lieutenant Sloan, cast further doubt on his assailants courage.  "Any individual who would ambush someone in a dark alley has to be a coward."_

They weren't even sure that whoever shot Steve was the killer they were looking for.  If that was the case he could now have two people after him.  Mark had argued this point tirelessly with his son and the Chief to no avail.  He had known from the moment he walked into the room and saw the look on Steve's face that it was a lost cause, but he had to try.  He had stood by while a story was fabricated and watched while Steve was positioned in the bed for a picture.  He had finally interceded when the pain reflected on Steve's face became more than he could bear.  He had cleared the room and ordered pain medication for his son.  Steve was so exhausted that it had taken very little time for him to fall asleep.  Mark had stood by the bed and watched as slumber overtook him.  As the medication entered his system his face relaxed and in Mark's mind he transformed into a tousled haired boy with freckles spreading across his nose.  Mark could see the toothless smile that completed the picture.  With that remembrance guiding his actions he leaned down and gently ruffled Steve's hair before he placed a kiss on his forehead.

………………..

Two days had passed since Steve had been ambushed in the alley.  Jesse had decided that as long as he limited his activities he could go home.  The decision had been made for the sake of the hospital staff as much as Steve.  His inability to work on the case had made him a less than agreeable patient.  He argued over medication that would knock him out and in an effort to protect him, Mark had set visitation limits that the nurses had been instructed to enforce.  Much to Mark's dismay, Jesse had made the decision to release him.  As Jesse approached Steve's room he heard raised voices.  He quickened his pace and pushed the door open and his mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted him.  Madge Donovan a longtime nurse's aide stood with her hands on her rather ample hips.

"Now look here young man, I was sent here to help you with your bath.  I am not like the other aides that you have been able to shoo out of here.  A charming smile and pretty eyes have no affect on me.  We can do this the easy way, but believe me I am perfectly capable of doing this the hard way."

Jesse nearly laughed out loud.  Steve had backed himself into the furthest corner of the narrow hospital bed and held his pillow in front of him like a shield, a look of total fear rested on his face.

"Well, what's it going to be?" Madge Donovan asked.

Steve looked up and saw Jesse.  "Jesse?"

"Hey, buddy don't look at me, I can't interfere with another member of the hospital staff doing their job.  Ms Donovan is twenty minutes long enough?"

Madge Donovan looked at her bath buddy appraisingly.  "There's not much to him, I'd say fifteen minutes would be more than enough."

The look that Steve gave Jesse promised a painful revenge, but Jesse smiled an angelic smile and walked out of the room and down the hall laughing the entire way.

………………..

Mark entered the room and found his son sitting up in the bed, arms folded across his broad chest and a petulant look residing on his face.

"Good morning, Son."

"Dad, I'm ready to go home."

"Yes, and that's why I'm here, has Jesse released you yet?"

The mention of Jesse's name caused a scowl to appear on Steve's face.  "The nurse said he has, after a brief visit this morning, I haven't seen him."

Mark could sense that there was more going on, but he didn't push the issue.  "Let me go check with your nurse and I'll be right back."

"Fine, Detective Dunbar is meeting me at the house in a couple of hours to work on the case."

Mark opened his mouth to argue but decided to wait until they were home.  "Let me go check on your discharge papers."

………………..

The trip home had been strained.  Steve seemed to feel the need to fight him over everything.  From riding in a wheelchair to the car, to stopping to have his pain medication filled.  It was with great relief that Mark pulled into the driveway at the beach house.  He opened his door and turned to climb out of the car when the sound of the passenger door being closed caught him by surprise.  Shaking his head in exasperation he exited the car and headed up the stairs after his currently annoying son.  He entered the house and stopped in the foyer and listened for sounds that would tell him where said annoying son had gone.  He heard noises coming from Steve's unit and heaved an exasperated sigh.  Steve had already thrown caution to the wind on Jesse's do's and don'ts list.  He had been told to avoid rapid movements and steps when possible.  His flight from the car and immediate descent into his living area had been in direct disregard of those instructions.  Something had happened and Mark didn't know what it was.  He decided that putting it off was not an option and feeling much like David entering the lion's den he walked down the stairs.  He stopped at the door and peered in.  Steve was nowhere in sight.  He moved on into the room and noticed that the patio door was open.  As he got closer he saw Steve sitting at the table, nursing a beer.  _Ok, another item on the do's and don'ts list bites the dust_.  "Steve?"

He received a curt grunt in response.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking with the medication you're on."

"I haven't taken any medication."

"No, I realize that, but it's still in your system from the hospital."

"I feel fine, just leave it, ok?"

Mark sighed heavily.  "Steve, what's wrong?  You've been impossible to deal with since I first got to the hospital this morning."

Steve stared out at the beach and gave no indication that he had heard his father.  He didn't know how to put into words what he was feeling.  After he had been 'cleaned and polished' as she put it by Madge Donovan, Alex had dropped by.  Their conversation had been difficult.  She was suffering from a severe case of guilt and he was suffering from a severe case of anger.  He could not seem to get over what she had done.  He wasn't one to normally hold grudges, and he knew deep down that what she had done was out of character.  He should forgive her, but he just couldn't seem to do it.

After a lengthy silence during, which Mark contemplated slapping his son upside his already damaged head, Steve finally responded.

"Alex came by."

"Ahh, ok, that explains so much," Mark stated as he moved and sat down at the table.

"I know she didn't mean to hurt me, Dad, but I just can't seem to get beyond it.  When we first started talking I thought it was going to be ok, then the doubts resurface and I start analyzing everything she says, and then we end up in a big argument."

"Steve, she's not my favorite person right now either, but you have to find a way to deal with this.  There is too much at stake for you to have your mind preoccupied with her."

Steve turned to look at his father.  "I know that, Dad, three men are dead, and I'm worrying about something this trivial, but I just can't help it."

"Do you have feelings for her?"

Once again a stretch of silence before Steve answered.  "Maybe, I do." 

"Do you think, that's why you're having such a hard time forgiving her?"

"Probably, maybe I blame her for the first break-up."

"But, Steve, you initiated it."

"I know but maybe she should have fought me a little harder."

Mark smiled.  "You do realize how ridiculous that sounds."

Steve smiled in return.  "Yes, I guess maybe I needed to hear it from someone else."

"Are you going to be able to deal with this now?"

"I think so, how do you do it?"

"Do what?" Mark asked.

"Say so much while saying very little."

Mark smiled and his eyes twinkled.  "Father's secret."

………………..

Three days had passed since Steve had been released from the hospital.  Against Jesse's advice he had gone back to work.  Though he was grateful he was also puzzled that there had been no other murders.  They had been unable to come up with any evidence that linked his shooting with the murders.  He was reading through the report that Aaron Dunbar had filed after his visit to the coffee shop.  It was about as informative as reading a grocery list.  No one was standing out as a suspect.  Steve decided that it was time to pay Cathy Jewell, Gwen Sterling and Jamey Coleman another visit.  He was fresh out of ideas and though he didn't really suspect them maybe they would remember something that would help the investigation.  Though he would never admit it he was exhausted.  He probably shouldn't have come back to work his head hurt and his side throbbed.  He was contemplating calling it a day when a visitor stopped in front of his desk.  He looked up to find Alex smiling at him tentatively.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hello, Alex, what brings you down here?"

"Steve, I need for us to resolve our differences, I can't keep on like this, I, have apologized, but please don't make me beg."

Steve gazed at her a moment before responding.  "Are you hungry?"

Alex, still unsure of herself, smiled slightly.  "Yes, I am."

Steve stood up from his desk and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair.  "I know a place that serves great BBQ, are you interested?" Steve said as he offered her his arm.

She gladly slipped her arm through his and smiled at him gratefully.

As they exited the precinct they were both unaware of the figure hidden in the shadows across the street who watched their every move.


	13. All Is Forgiven?

Chapter Thirteen – All Is Forgiven?

As Steve lifted the glass to his mouth he observed the woman sitting across the table from him.  Her hair was pulled back from her face which accented her beautiful eyes.  Their dinner had been pleasant.  It was like the old days.  They were relaxed and enjoying each other's company.  His earlier discomfort had been forgotten.  As he continued to observe her his phone rang.  "Sloan, here, hi, Dad."

"Steve, where are you?"

"I'm at Bob's having dinner with Alex."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Dad."  Steve heard the sigh on the other end of the phone and knew what it meant.  His father was not happy.  He had been as adamant as Jesse about Steve not going back to work, but had relented when he realized that he couldn't stop him.

"Steve, you need your rest."

"Dad, I know, I'll be home soon.  Don't worry I'm fine."  The other end of the phone was silent for a moment then his father spoke.

"By soon you mean within the hour, right?"

Steve chuckled lightly.  "Yes, Dad, within the hour.  I'll talk with you then."  They said their goodbyes, Steve flipped the phone shut and found Alex watching him intently.  "What?"

"I've missed that."

"Missed what?" Steve asked.

"The way you and your Dad are."

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

She tilted her head to one side.  "You really don't realize how special it is, do you?"

Sudden understanding dawned on Steve.  He knew that Jesse envied him his relationship with his father, but he had never thought about anyone else feeling the same way.  "I do realize it, but it has always been like that, and I guess I just expect it."

She smiled a warm smile at him.  "Let's call it a night, your father was right, you need to be home in bed….," she stopped as his expression changed.  "Alone," she added with a mischievous smile that matched the one Steve now wore.

**………………..**

True to his word Steve walked through the door of the beach house less than an hour from the time he had talked with his dad.  He slowly walked up the stairs and found his father asleep on the couch, a book resting on his lap.  Steve crossed the room and sat down carefully next to him.  He smiled as he gently reached to remove the book from Mark's lap.  The light touch was enough to cause Mark to stir.  He slowly opened his eyes and grinned in greeting when he saw Steve sitting beside him.

"You're home," Mark stated as he eyed him appraisingly.  "You look tired, is your side hurting?"

"Not much, I am pretty tired though."

"I don't suppose there's any chance of getting you to stay home tomorrow, and give your body a days rest?

"No, Dad, until this case is solved I need to go to work."

Mark looked at him intently.  He was still pale and there were lines of fatigue and pain on his face, but the blue eyes were shining brightly.  "I take it that dinner went well?"

"Surprisingly it did," Steve responded.

"I guess that means you have forgiven her?"

"There are still issues, but I think we can work things out and be friends."

"Friends?  You're sure there's not more to it than that?"

"No, Dad, even though I may have feelings for her, the fact still remains that our jobs don't mingle very well."

Mark sighed, stood up from the couch and stretched.  "Let's go to bed, I know I'm more than ready.  I'll see you at breakfast.  Goodnight, Son."

"Goodnight, Dad, I'm going to stay up for a few more minutes."

"Steve, don't make it longer than that, you need your rest."

"I promise, Dad, I just want to clear my head before I try to sleep."

**………………..**

Mark yawned as he walked from his bedroom towards the kitchen.  He had just finished tying the belt on his robe when he heard a faint noise coming from the family room.  He frowned and moved towards it.  The sound was emanating from his son who was still on the couch where Mark had left him the night before.  His legs were stretched out in front of him and his head was tilted at an odd angle that all but promised a stiff neck.  He was snoring lightly and probably would have continued on with his deep slumber if not for the rapping that suddenly was heard from the door leading to the deck.  Steve jerked and groaned and Mark looked up to see Jesse waving.  Mark shook his head and headed across to let his friend in.  "Good morning, Jesse."

"Good morning, Mark, hey, Steve you're up and ready early."

"Oh, he's not up and ready early, he never went to bed."

"He what!" Jesse exclaimed.

Mark held his hands up.  "Jesse, it's not like it sounds, he fell asleep on the couch."

Steve was still not completely awake and was therefore unaware that the conversation revolved around him.  He moved to stretch and immediately regretted it.  His wounded side was not quite up to it and made that clear.  He yelped, which halted the conversation going on around him and, suddenly he found himself the middle of a doctor sandwich.  Jesse was on one side and his father on the other.  They both began rapid firing questions at him.  His mind still muddled from sleep and pain made it impossible to comprehend what they were saying.  The comment that brought him back came from his father.

"I'll call for an ambulance," Mark stated.

"Whoa, Dad, why would you call an ambulance?"

"Steve, you seem to be disorientated and in pain, we need to get you checked out."

Steve had fully returned to awareness.  "Dad, I'm not disorientated.  I was sleeping pretty soundly, I forgot about my side, stretched and it hurt." 

Mark moved to look directly in his eyes and Jesse leaned in closely to perform his own examination.

The joint stares made Steve highly uncomfortable.  "I'm fine," he stated brusquely.  "Now, if you'll both excuse me I need to get ready for work."

"Not without a quick exam you don't," Jesse responded.

"Is that what you're doing here this early?" Steve inquired.

"Well, of course," Jesse responded.

"And, it has nothing to do with my dad fixing breakfast, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't turn down a good meal," he responded gleefully.

Mark chuckled.  "I'll go start breakfast while Jesse examines you"

**………………..**

Steve sat in his car in front of Ray's Gym.  He had interviewed Cathy Jewell and Jamey Coleman again, but other than an intense headache he had gotten nothing.  His second interview with Gwen Sterling had given him an intense pain in another part of his anatomy.  She had seemed to take delight in trying to push him over the edge.  His fatigue and the lingering discomfort from his injuries had made him more susceptible to her attempts.    He rubbed his knuckles across his eyes and nearly jumped through the roof when someone rapped on the passenger side window.  Steve looked over to see the man that Alex had introduced him to at the paper.  He turned the key enough in the ignition so that the power windows would work; pushed the button and watched it slide down.  "Hi, David? Right?"

"Yes, that's right, Lieutenant Sloan," David Larkin responded.

"What can I do for you?" Steve asked.

"Nothing, I just saw you sitting over here, and thought I would say hi."

Steve didn't like this guy, but tried to be friendly anyway.  "Oh, ok, what brings you down here?"

David gestured towards a booth in front of the bakery.  "I'm working the newspaper subscription table.  Have you seen Alex today?"

Steve felt a touch of anger.  "No, I haven't, why?"

"No reason.  I didn't think you had, she was really happy at the office this morning."

Steve's mouth took the shape of a smile but there was no warmth or humor displayed on his face.  "I'm pretty sure you don't know either of us well enough to make any judgments on how exposure to me may or may not affect Alex.  Now, if you will excuse me I need to be going."  As Steve finished, he pushed the button to raise the window and smiled slightly as David Larkin bumped his head as he tried to quickly pull his head out of the rapidly decreasing window space.  If he had looked in the rearview mirror as he drove away he would have seen David's face contorted with a look of pure rage.


	14. I Would Rather Be With You

Chapter Fourteen – I Would Rather Be With You

Steve and Mark sat at the table reading through all the information that had been gathered on the murders.  They had shared a pleasant and; in Steve's opinion delicious dinner of burgers and fries.  His father sat across from him; his shoulders slightly hunched, glasses on the end of his nose and a look of deep concentration on his face.  It was a look Steve knew well.  He smiled as he reached into a file to retrieve an interview that Aaron Dunbar had conducted with one of the bakery regulars.  He really didn't think he would find any new clues but at this point he was willing to try anything.  The silence was broken by the sound of Steve's cell phone ringing.  "Sloan, here."

Mark looked up from the report he was reading and focused on his son.

"Who did you say this was again?" Steve questioned.  He paused while the caller identified themselves.  "Ok, yes, I'm sorry, I know who you are.  She wants me to do what?"

Steve's tone had changed to one of irritation and Mark eyed him more intently, trying to figure out who could be on the other end of the phone.

Steve sighed and pulled his notebook out of his shirt pocket.  "Where and when?" was his abrupt response.  He then ended the conversation by flipping the phone shut.  Steve looked over to find himself the recipient of a look only his father was capable of.  It expressed curiosity, humor, a touch of anger and as always love.

"Go ahead," Steve said.

With a mock shocked expression on his face Mark responded.  "I don't know what you mean."

Steve gave him a half smile and relaxed slightly.  "That was David Larkin, you know the guy that works with Alex at the paper?"

Mark didn't answer immediately and when Steve glanced back at him, he could see that his fathers mind was working furiously.  "Dad?"

Mark was slow to respond as he looked at Steve he suddenly felt uneasy.  He was missing something.  It was just beyond his reach.  He knew it was important, but could not pull it from his memory.  "I'm sorry son, what did you say?"

Steve silently appraised his father.  He knew him well and could tell when he was onto something.  Once again he questioned.  'Dad?"

"I don't know, I just can't remember, it's niggling at the back of my mind, that name, I've heard it before."

"You have Dad, I've mentioned it a couple of times."

"No, Steve, other than when….there's something….," he let the sentence trail off.  "So, what did he want?"

Steve pondered both the question and his father for a moment before he answered.  "He said Alex had discovered some information and wants me to meet her and talk about it."

"Why didn't she call you herself?"

"He said she is down in the warehouse district working on a story, apparently her cell phone is not working very well, so when she got through to him she asked him to call me and relay the message."

There it was again the feeling that he was missing something.  It had started as a slight sensation in Mark's mind; it was now building in intensity.  "Don't you find that a little odd, with all the cell towers in LA?" Mark asked.

"He didn't say it was a service issue Dad, just that her phone was not working."

"What time and where are you meeting her?"

Steve looked at his watch.  "Now, and a warehouse on Dumsenil Street."  Steve knew that by the time he got across town it would be time to meet Alex.  He had hoped to get to bed early tonight.  He was tired, hurt and frustrated by his lack of progress on the case.  With a sigh he pushed himself back from the table and as he stood up a grimace of pain flashed across his face.  He looked towards his father to see if he had seen and then almost laughed out-loud at his own foolishness.  His ever alert father never missed anything.  Thus, he was surprised to find that Mark had not noticed, in fact Steve was pretty sure be could have stripped off naked and danced around the room and his father wouldn't have noticed.  His brow was creased and he was deep in thought.  "Dad?"

Mark jerked.  "Be careful, Steve," he spoke with an almost pleading tone in his voice.

Steve smiled faintly.  "Dad, it's just Alex, I don't think I'm in any danger."

Mark once again felt the uneasiness settle around him.  He felt the overwhelming need to keep his son close.  "I know it's just Alex, but remember someone took a shot at you."

"I remember, Dad, but I seriously doubt it was Alex," Steve responded with a grin.

Mark felt a flutter in his stomach.  His anxiety was on the rise again.  Something was so wrong.  He was reluctant to say anything to Steve because he couldn't really identify what was bothering him.  He looked up into the face he knew better than his own.  He saw the fatigue, the pain and the grin that was currently displayed.  The grin faltered slightly under Mark's intense scrutiny.

"Dad, I'll be fine, you're worrying over nothing."

"I just wish I could go with you," Mark stated.

"Dad, don't worry about it, how often do you get to meet with a master magician in your own home?"

Mark nodded his head.  A little over two weeks ago he had treated a master magician in the ER for a rabbit bite that had become infected.  They had conversed about magic during the treatment and the magician had offered to come to the beach house for some private lessons.  He was due to arrive in the next thirty minutes.  Mark did not have enough time to accompany his son.  "I know that, but I would rather be with you."

For some reason that simple statement threw Steve's emotions into chaos.  He felt the moisture begin to threaten in his eyes and he swallowed convulsively in an effort to bring himself under control.  _Jeez, I must be more tired than I thought.  _He managed to pull himself together and smiled at his father.  "Same here, Dad, have a good time learning some new tricks," Steve spoke as he turned and walked out of the room he suddenly stopped and turned around and looked at his father.

Mark lifted a brow and looked at him questioningly.  "Did you forget something?"

Steve smiled.  "No, just make sure you don't learn any tricks that require assistance from me, I still have a scar on my arm from the previous attempt," Steve said as he absently rubbed at the offended arm.

Mark chuckled lightly.  "Alright," he then sobered.  "Please be careful."

"I will Dad, don't wait up."

**………………..**

As Steve pulled into the parking lot the setting sun covered the side of the warehouse with a myriad of shadows.  He stopped the car and, after shutting off the engine, he sat quietly in the car.  He found his thoughts drawn to his father.  _"I'd rather be with you"_.  The comment was echoing through his head.  He felt a tingling of apprehension in his spine.  _You've rubbed off on me, Dad.  _Steve shook his head to clear his thoughts and chuckled softly.  "Dad, you are making me paranoid."

He then opened the door and stepped out of the car.  He stopped briefly and squinting, looked towards the door of the building.  After a brief appraisal he touched his hand to the ever present gun on his hip before heading towards the doorway.

**………………..**

"He's coming," the man stated.

"I see him," snapped his partner.  "I knew he would come, just like a dog to a bone."

The man laughed.  "Woof, woof."

His partner smiled.  "Move over by the door and get ready, as soon as he walks through and sees me take him out."

"Sure, boss," the man responded with a smile.

**………………..**

Steve walked through the door to the warehouse and stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting.  He looked around, and a noise in the room to his right caught his attention and once again he reached to pat the gun that rode securely on his hip.  He walked towards the sound and as he crossed the threshold he looked into familiar eyes. A slight movement caught his attention to late, he turned moving his left hand towards his weapon, but he never made it, as a pipe connected with his right temple.  His final thought as his world grew dark was _I'd rather be with you, Dad._


	15. The Cost Of Making It Big

Chapter Fifteen – The Cost Of Making It Big

Mark sat propped up in bed surrounded by folders.  His magician friend had left a little over an hour ago and Steve had been gone for some time.  He knew he would be unable to sleep until his son was home in bed.  He smiled to himself as that thought took him back through many years of memories spent waiting up for his son to come home.  He pulled himself back to the present and found his eyes drawn to a police interview with an employee of the LA Times who frequently worked the subscription booth across from Ray's Gym.  The name seemed to scream at him.  Mark felt a flash of panic ripple through him as a wave of memories crashed through his mind.  The man's unexplained anger towards his son, his proximity to the only common area the murders had, and most importantly his recent call to Steve.  Mark reached for the bedside phone and called Steve's cell, after several rings he got voice mail.  He left a message, then threw the covers back, jumped out of the bed and raced to his desk in the living room.  He rifled through his address book until he found Alex's cell phone.  As he punched the buttons with trembling fingers he silently prayed that the number was still good, it had been some time since he had called it.  His knees became like rubber when a voice he recognized answered.  "Alex," he practically shouted.  "Is Steve with you?"

A perplexed Alex pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the number revealed by the caller id.  "Mark?" she questioned.  The number was his, but the voice tinged with panic sounded nothing like the affable doctor.  "What do you mean is Steve with me?"

Mark had to suppress the wave of anger that threatened to erupt.  "Did you call and ask him to meet you?"

Alex was even more confused.  "No, Mark, I haven't talked with him today, why?"

Mark's anger was quickly replaced by a deep sense of dread.  "I know you didn't call, did you have someone call for you?"  The normal composure was gone in its place were the emotions of a frantic father.  "David Larkin called and said that you wanted Steve to meet you at a warehouse on Dumsenil.  Why aren't you there?"

"Mark, I just told you, I neither called Steve, nor did I have someone call him.  You're scaring me; please tell me what's going on!"

Mark took a deep breath before repeating what he knew.  "Steve got a phone call from David Larkin; he said that you had some new information about the murders, and that you wanted to meet him."

Alex didn't answer immediately.  Mark couldn't see the frown that marred her perfect brow.  "Mark, I'm sure that this is just some innocent mix-up.  Let me check into it and call you back."

"I'll give you my cell phone number because I am going to look for him."

"Mark, do you have any idea how many warehouses there are on Dumsenil?" Alex questioned.

"No, and I don't care, my son is in one of them and I will find him!"

"Ok, Mark, I'm not far from there, the warehouse district starts at the intersection of Floyd and Dumsenil…."

Mark stared down at the phone as if it would explain why the call had ended so abruptly.  After a brief delay he pressed the disconnect button and immediately dialed another number and a sleep slurred voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Jesse, wake up, I need your help."

He had worked thirty-six straight hours and collapsed into bed about an hour earlier, but those few words jolted Jesse awake.  "Mark, what's wrong?"

"I'll explain when I see you, Steve may be in trouble.  Meet me at the corner of Floyd and Dumsenil," Mark paused as his looked at his watch.  "in about twenty minutes."

An immediately alert Jesse had been pulling his clothes on as Mark spoke.  "I'll see you there."

As Mark hung up the phone a brief smile touched his lips as he thought about the young doctor.  Jesse had been a wonderful addition to their lives.  They depended on him for so much and he never disappointed.

**………………..**

Alex looked at her phone.  "Damn, what a time for the battery to go dead."  She threw the phone into the seat beside her and quickly made a u-turn and headed towards Dumsenil Street.  She was on the opposite end of where she assumed Mark would begin his search, hopefully that would speed up the process of locating Steve.

**………………..**

Steve slowly swam through the fog that encompassed his head.  His mouth was dry and a throbbing pain emanated from his right temple.  He felt something wet running down his face.  He wanted to open his eyes but they felt too heavy, he decided to wait a minute and began a mental evaluation of his body.  The old aches were there, and seemed to be trying to keep time with the throbbing in his head.  He didn't have much sensation in his hands and moved them slightly and felt a rope chafe his wrists.  Next he tried his legs and found them secured at the ankles to the chair he was in.  His chin was resting on his chest and with supreme effort he lifted it up and took the monumental step of trying to open his eyes.  As they gradually opened he wondered if the blow had affected his eyesight.  All he saw was darkness, it shifted slightly, then moved away from him and then in closer again.  The darkness then spoke.

"He's awake, Boss."

Something about the voice was familiar.  Steve had heard it before.  His eyes adjusted and focused and he realized the darkness was the black shirt that a large man was wearing.  He heard another voice and realized it went with the eyes he had seen just before his world went dark.  Steve decided to try and take control of the situation.  The silliness of that thought made him chuckle out loud.  _I'm tied to a chair, with a band competition going on in my head, and I'm going to take control?"_  He was rewarded for his laugh with a large beefy hand back handing him across the face.

"What are you laughing at?  Boss, what is he laughing at?"

Steve was reminded of the John Steinbeck novel 'Of Mice and Men', he was being held captive by Lennie.  

**....................**

Alex recognized both Steve and David's car as soon as she saw then.  She couldn't believe her luck.  The first warehouse she had tried and she had hit pay dirt.  Out of habit she reached for her phone and then realized it was an exercise in futility.  She muttered an expletive and then climbed out of the car and moved towards the first visible door she saw.

**………………..**

"Lieutenant Sloan, so nice of you to join us.  Feeling a little under the weather are we?"

The mountain made a sound that Steve assumed was a laugh.  "Good one, Boss."

David Larkin looked at the large man with barely concealed fury.  "Would you please shut up?"

Steve looked between the two men and a sudden realization dawned on him.  His memory flew back to his altercation in the bar.  'Lennie', was his assailant.  "What, did you write his lines for him that night at the bar?  He doesn't seem able to create coherent sentences on his own."

The meaty paw once again connected with Steve's face and he felt a fresh warmth running from his nose and into his mouth.  He turned his head to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"I would advise you not to antagonize Wilbur.  He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows all kinds of unique ways to inflict pain.  Show him one, Wilbur."

Steve tried to brace himself, but it was useless. Wilbur threw a right handed punch that landed at the apex between the left and right sets of ribs at the base of the sternum.  The result was not only intense pain but the impact also took Steve's breath away.  He found himself gasping like a fish out of water.  As Steve regained his composure he looked into the face of David Larkin and saw nothing but hatred.

"Care for another demonstration, Lieutenant?" he sneered.

He never got to answer.  The sound of a voice calling his name drew the attention of the room's occupants.

"Steve," Alex shouted.  "Where are you?"  "David?"

"ALEX, RUN," Steve shouted just before Wilbur delivered another punishing blow that once again rendered him unconscious. 

**………………..**

"Mark, shouldn't we call Captain Newman?" Jesse asked.

"And tell him what, Jesse?  That I have a feeling that something is wrong? Because, basically that's all this is.  I have no real evidence, no proof."

"I know that Mark, but your feelings are often better than any evidence."

Mark smiled his appreciation.  "I somehow don't think Captain Newman would agree Jesse.  Let's find Steve first, then we'll go from there."

**………………….**

Alex heard Steve's shouted warning and then the sickening sound of flesh on flesh.  She took one step towards the door and freedom, then stopped and moved in the direction Steve's voice seemed to have come from.  She hadn't gone very far when David Larkin appeared in front of her.  "David," the calmness of her voice amazed even her.

"Ms Thompson, or is it ok to call you Alex?"

"Ms Thompson will do, where is Steve?"

"He's a little tied up at the moment," David answered with a chuckle.

Alex pushed her way past him and into the room behind him.  She came to a dead stop just inside the doorway.  Steve was tied to a chair, his head hung limply on his chest and his light colored shirt was covered in blood.  There were droplets of blood on the wall to his right and also on the floor around the chair.  She stifled the cry that tried to escape her mouth by placing her hand over the opening.  A slight groan from the figure in the chair released her frozen feet and she rushed to his side and dropped to her knees heedless of the blood that would stain her pants.  She reached a gentle hand to cup his face. 

Steve had heard the stifled cry and then felt a gentle touch on his face.  "Dad?" he groaned.

Through a tear laden voice, Alex choked out a response.  "No, Steve, it's me, Alex."

Steve jerked.  "Alex, you need to get out of here."

"How touching," sneered David.  "He treats you like dirt, and here you are on your knees in his blood trying to comfort him."

Alex stood up with a defiant look on her face.  "What do you think you are doing?"

"Why, helping you out with your career."

Alex was dumbstruck.  "I don't understand?"

Steve took advantage of the lack of interest in him for the moment and worked on loosening the rope around his wrists.  They had been rubbed raw by the chafing and had begun bleeding.  He used his own blood as a lubricant to try and slide them free.

"Alex, and I think I have the right to call you that.  I gave you what you always said you needed.  You always said if you got 'the story' you would make it big.  So I gave you a serial killer."

Alex looked around the room.  She needed a chair or maybe a garbage can.  The contents of her stomach were suggesting they might be making an appearance.  She spotted both in a far corner of the room.  She made her way over to them and collapsed into the chair before burying her head in the trash can.

**………………..**

Mark and Jesse pulled up in front of the next warehouse they had encountered, it could have been the tenth or even the twentieth, they had both lost count.  Repeated calls to both Steve and Alex's phones had gone unanswered.  In desperation Mark had called an old friend who worked for the LA Times.  He roused the man out of bed and requested his help in finding a phone number for David Larkin.  The man had agreed, but would need to go to the office to retrieve the information.  He had told Mark to expect a call within the hour.  That hour was almost up.  Mark had looked at his watch with almost each tick.  When his phone rang Mark practically pounced on it.  "Mark Sloan."

"Do you have it? Good, 555-6725," as Mark spoke Jesse wrote.  "Thank you Paul, I owe you."  Mark barely ended the call before he was punching in the number he had just been given.  The phone was answered on the third ring.

David marveled at what a wonderful thing caller ID was.  "Doctor Sloan, how nice of you to call."  

"David, where are you?"

'Wouldn't you like to know," David asked sarcastically.

"Is my son with you?" As Mark spoke his voice broke betraying the chaotic state of his emotions.

"Why, yes, he is."

"Is he alright?" Mark asked.

"Hardly, but then you didn't really expect him to be, did you?"

Mark closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself.  "Please, just tell me where you are."

"No, I don't think so, besides you wouldn't get here in time anyway.  I hope your son has his affairs in order.  Goodbye, Doctor Sloan."

Mark sat staring at the phone.  The feeling of despair was overwhelming.

"Mark, what did he say?" Jesse asked.  When he received no answer he gently prompted again.  "Mark?"

As Mark looked up a single tear slid from his eye and snaked down his cheek, he tasted salt as it fell into his mouth.  "He said he was going to kill my son."


	16. Confessions And Escapes

Chapter Sixteen – Confessions and Escapes

When Steve had heard his father's name, he had jerked as if Wilbur had landed another punch.  _Dad_, _I'm sorry_, was the thought that momentarily consumed his mind.  It was quickly replaced by a determination to protect his father from the pain he knew his death would cause.  He could not, would not, allow that to happen.

Alex had somewhat regained her composure.  She took a deep breath in an attempt to settle her still protesting stomach.  She had heard David address Mark and had observed Steve's reaction, it was then that she had noticed the slight movement of his hands and realized what he was doing.  _Suck it up, Alex, you need to buy him some time!  _Alex stood and walked back across the room.  "David?"

"Through tossing your cookies?" he inquired.

Alex chose to ignore his comment.  "David, I'm not saying I understand what you did to those men, but I really don't understand you involving Steve in this."

David stared at her intently for a moment.  "You love him, don't you?"

Alex glanced down at her hands, when she looked back up she found herself the recipient of another gaze.  Though clouded with pain, the clear blue eyes watched her intently.  She smiled briefly before turning her attention back to David.  "Yes, I love him…" she looked towards Steve again, "I always have."

David shook his head in amazement and in a tone that bordered on a scream he responded to her declaration of love.  "I will never understand how a woman as intelligent as you could fall for someone as simple as him.  He dumped you.  I was, and have always been, right there, but you never saw that."

"David, I never thought of you that way, I'm sorry if I ever gave any other impression."

"He's just like the others you know, I chose them because they looked like him.  You should have seen them with their perfect hair, the perfect smiles and well muscled bodies."

"David, this has to stop."

"Yes, you're right it does, and it will, as soon as our friend over there is dead."  His demeanor changed suddenly.  Gone was the raging madness in his eyes, they were now filled with sadness.  He looked at Alex and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes.  "All I ever wanted was for us to be together, that's all I ever wanted," he voiced in a pleading tone.  "Can't you understand that?"

Alex chanced a covert glance at Steve in an effort to see how he was progressing with the rope on his wrists.  He caught her eye and gave her a brief nod.  She once again returned her attention to David.

"Yes, David, I can, I'm sorry I didn't see it," she replied with a slight smile.  Again out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Steve and again his reaction was a positive nod.  She moved closer to David and tentatively reached her hand towards him.  He recoiled slightly, then allowed her hand to rest on it.  She attempted what she hoped was a warm smile.

Steve had been dumbfounded by Alex response.  _She loves me?  She never said anything.  _He found that it was too much to deal with right now and he continued to work at the rope that bound him.  As he had increased his activity he had furthered damaged his already battered wrists.  The result had been a steady stream of blood that although painful had made his task easier.  He surveyed the room to take note of everyone's position.  Alex had David's undivided attention, and Wilbur was dozing in the corner.  Steve realized it was now or never.  He could only hope that Alex was ready.  With one last tug that dug into the grooves the rope had worn, Steve felt his hands slide free.  He flexed his fingers to encourage the feeling to return completely.  He knew in his weakened physical condition it was a one shot deal.  He would not have the reserves to try again.  With that final thought, he sprung from the chair and launched himself towards Wilbur.

**………………..**

"Mark?"  When he received no answer Jesse plowed on.  "We have to keep looking."

Mark roused himself.  "Yes, yes we do."  Mark concentrated on his phone and called Steve's precinct.  He now had enough information to get Captain Newman to send help.  It had seemed like an eternity before he was taken off hold and put through to the Captain at home.  He had explained the situation and was highly relieved when Newman immediately agreed to send officers to the scene, in fact, he himself would be there as soon as he could.

Jesse reached and laid a hand on his mentor's arm.  "We will find him, and he will be ok."

Mark smiled his gratefulness for Jesse's assurances.

"I refuse to run Bob's by myself," Jesse added.

Mark chuckled.  "Let's go find him, Jesse."

**………………..**

Alex saw Steve move and she took action as well.  She took advantage of her proximity to David and brought her knee up into his groin.  He screamed and doubled over in pain.  The sound was enough to rouse Wilbur from his stupor just as Steve reached him.  He caught the man who came flying at him, and, using Steve's own momentum, threw him against the wall.  The sound of the impact was sickening.  Steve slid down the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.  He heard Alex scream and groaned as a foot impacted with his side.  _GET UP, STEVE!, _he heard his father's voice in his head.  Steve would never know where he found the strength to continue, but as the foot headed towards his side again he grabbed it and twisted up to the right.  It was enough to throw the giant off balance, and Steve moved as quickly as he could to press what little advantage he had.

Alex had been looking around the room for something else to hit David with when she saw Steve fly through the air and impact the wall.  When the foot had connected with his side, she had thought she was going to need the garbage can again.  David remained in a prone position on the floor with his hands covering his groin.  For the moment, he was incapacitated.

Steve made his way to his feet and bull-charged the larger man who was still trying to regain his balance, he drove him backwards.  His head hit the wall and snapped forward.  The blow had knocked him unconscious.  "Alex, let's go!" he shouted as he made two steps towards her.

With one last look at David, she ran towards Steve and followed him out the door.  As quickly as Steve's injuries would allow, they raced down the hall of the warehouse and towards what they hoped was freedom.  Steve pushed open the door and felt the crisp air that was common for the overnight hours in Southern California.  As Steve crossed further across the parking lot, he saw the headlights of a car and headed directly for them with Alex trailing behind him.  He heard his name being screamed, and, as he turned he heard the loud retort of a gun being fired.   

**………………..**

They had turned into the lot of the warehouse and as they moved further across the pavement, the headlights had displayed the silhouettes of two people running from the warehouse.  Mark squinted in an effort to identify the figures, and as the car continued forward, the duo started heading directly towards the lights.  As they got closer he recognized the form of his son.  What transpired next caused his breath to catch in his throat, and he gasped out his son's name.


	17. A Nightmare Shared

Chapter Seventeen –  A Nightmare Shared

When Steve turned he had a momentary look at David Larkin as he stood several feet away.  The look on his face was one of pure evil.  In the next instant Alex was falling into his arms.  He dropped to his knees and carefully cradled her against his body and felt a sticky wetness on her back.  He was so focused on her that he failed to notice David Larkin moving towards them gun in hand.

**………………..**

Mark had watched the events transpire as if in a dream.  He had seen David Larkin exit the warehouse with his gun pointed at his son.  In the next moment Alex had become aware of his intent and she had screamed Steve's name and flung herself in front of the gun as it discharged.  When he saw Steve catch her, he had looked back and stared as David Larkin once more took aim at his son.  He would never recall clearly what happened next, but almost immediately he felt the car impact with the man who was threatening his son.  The vehicle screeched to a halt and there was a deafening silence. 

**………………..**

Steve was totally unaware of the drama playing out around him.  He was intent on the woman in his arms.  A woman he knew was probably dying.  He was covered in blood, her blood, there was blood running from her nose, and a gurgling noise could be heard in her throat.  He felt her hand grab his shirt and he looked into her once bright eyes.  She moved her lips, in an effort to speak; her voice was so low that Steve leaned in closely, his ear almost touching her mouth.

"I love you," she whispered.

Steve gripped her more tightly, fell back off his knees and sat on the ground.  He pulled her completely onto his lap and cuddled her tightly against his chest.  "I'm sorry, Alex."

"Why…are…you…sorry?" she gasped.

"Because I kept us apart, because that bullet was meant for me," he responded in a tear choked voice.

She smiled and reached a finger up towards his face to touch the tear that had just escaped his eye.  She brought it back and touched her lips with the wetness.  The salty taste was him.  "Say it, please?" she pleaded.

Steve closed his eyes briefly and pulled her even more tightly to him.  He then lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled a singularly sweet smile that would haunt Steve for the rest of his life and then breathed her last breath.

**………………..**

Steve was seated near the back of the chapel in the funeral home.  His dad was to his left and Amanda to his right with her hand resting lightly on his leg.  Jesse sat beside his dad, and Steve glanced over to find the young man, his head bowed, staring at the floor.  The last few days had been difficult to say the least.  Steve's physical injuries were well on their way to being healed, the mental damage however was progressing much more slowly and though they hadn't talked, he knew Jesse was suffering in the same way.  He was not sleeping and found himself restlessly pacing through the house during the night.  The hardest part though was that whenever Steve closed his eyes a vision of Alex's last smile filled his mind.

Steve was sure Jesse was experiencing similar problems and they needed each other more than ever, but when Steve looked at him, saw the torment and the sadness in his eyes, his feelings of guilt over the entire situation increased. Jesse had taken the oath to save lives but, in saving Steve's life, had taken that of David Larkin and a distance had sprung up between them, adding to both their struggles. 

As his thoughts wandered, his eyes drifted towards the front of the room.  The casket was white and adorned with red roses.  _As he had gazed down at her, Steve had nearly lost his hard-fought battle for control.  She had looked as if she were sleeping, as if she would wake at any moment.  Her hair lay softly around her face and he had reached to gently stroke it with trembling fingers. At that moment, he had felt a hand squeeze his arm lightly and turned to find Amanda beside him.  Her tear and compassion filled eyes proved to be his undoing.  He grabbed her and held her closely as the sob was ripped from his throat._

The music started to indicate that the service was beginning, and he pulled his thoughts back to the present.  His gaze found Alex's parents where they sat on the front row.  They had been incredibly kind, had told him it wasn't his fault, but that did nothing to alleviate his guilt.

He felt Amanda squeeze his thigh and he looked to find her smiling kindly at him.  He attempted a return smile as another hand to his left slid down between their chairs to grasp his own and give it a brief reassuring squeeze.  As the hand started to move back, Steve grabbed and held it in place.  That touch had meant so much in his life.  It had been there when he walked into school for the first time, held him tightly when he left for Vietnam, and been there to comfort him when he came home.  It had congratulated him soundly when he graduated from the Police Academy, provided strength when his mother and sister had died and been there through numerous injuries and recoveries.  It grounded and supported him in much the same fashion now, and as Steve gripped tighter, he felt the love and strength flow through the healing fingers.  A safe warmth flowed into him and gave him the courage to make it through the service.

  **………………..**

Jesse sat at the table in the doctors' lounge.  His hands gripped the coffee cup that sat in front of him.  To the casual observer it might appear that he was enjoying the heat when in actuality he was trying to control the trembling of his hands.  He stared at the long cold black liquid.  His mind was in turmoil.  The logical side knew that he had done what he had to do.  He used the only weapon at his disposal to protect his best friend.  He didn't regret that, he did however regret that his actions had taken the life of another.  After he had checked on Alex and confirmed what Steve already knew, he had left Steve in the capable hands of his father and moved towards the crumpled figure in front of his car.  As he had knelt down and examined the figure illuminated in the headlights, he had known immediately that the man was dead.  Sightless eyes gazed back at him.  He closed his own eyes in an effort to cleanse his mind of the image but as had been the case since it happened he was unsuccessful. 

Mark smiled at the young doctor.  "Hi, Jess, tough day?"

"No more than normal, how about you?"

"The same, Amanda is coming to the house for dinner tonight, can you join us?"

Jesse considered the offer.  He had been avoiding spending any time with Steve, he wasn't angry with him, it just seemed awkward.  He knew they were both avoiding the issue, and the longer it went on, the greater the chance of permanent damage to their relationship.  He was not willing to risk that, but he also found himself unable to look his friend in the eyes.  He didn't know how long he had been sitting with his mind bouncing from one thought to another, but when he looked up he found Mark watching him intently, a concerned look on his face.

"Jesse, please, say yes," Mark pleaded.

Jesse smiled slightly his decision made.  "Sure, Mark, what time?"

Mark grinned broadly.  "We'll see you around 7:30."  The first part of his mission accomplished Mark left the lounge to find Amanda and share his success.

**………………..**

Steve sat at the table surrounded by boxes.  Though he was not yet back at work, he was still the lead investigator on the murders and thus all the evidence collected at David Larkin's apartment had been brought to the house for him to review.  Larkin had kept a detailed journal, and had carefully and methodically planned all the murders.  He had only become careless at the end when he had targeted Steve.  His need for revenge over a perceived injustice had clouded his mind to what he wanted to accomplish.  The call to Steve had set Mark's mind down the path that would eventually lead to his downfall.  He had become familiar with the men while working the newspaper booth.  With each of them, he had documented what he learned.  He had chosen two of the victims over a length of time, the other had been a victim of opportunity.  He had resembled Steve and made the mistake of dropping his driver's license out of his wallet as he left Ray's Gym.  It had given David information that he needed to claim another victim.  There were multiple pictures of Alex and mutilated pictures of Steve.  He had intricately detailed each murder and his overall plan of trying to implicate a woman.  He had never really planned on killing Steve; that had happened when he had begun working on the murders and come in contact with Alex again.  There was more than enough evidence for David Larkin to be charged posthumously with murder.  Wilbur had been a classmate of David's, one of those individuals that lived on the fringe of society; he never really fit in anywhere.  Larkin had taken advantage of his need for acceptance and molded him into a willing accomplice.  He would stand trial for assault and kidnapping.  Steve lightly fingered one of the pictures of Alex.  It had been taken on the street outside the paper.  Her phone was nestled against her neck as she held it to her ear and rested her notepad against the wall of the building as she wrote.  That is what she did, who she was, the woman he loved.  He tenderly traced his finger around the image in the photograph.  The bitter irony of the entire situation was that Alex had finally gotten the fame she had sought.  Her murder had been front page news.  With that final thought Steve threw the papers and pictures into a box and went to the kitchen for a beer.

**………………..**

When Mark arrived home the house was silent.  He laid his keys on the table in the entryway and moved up the steps and through the living room and paused briefly to look at the boxes that littered the floor and the table before he opened the door that led to the deck.  Steve was sitting at the table staring out at the ocean.  He walked out and stopped in front of his son.  Steve's eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses so Mark was unable to read his expression.  "Amanda and Jesse are coming for dinner."

Steve swirled the beer bottle he held in his hand.  "Jesse's coming?"

"Yes, they both will be here around 7:30."

"Then I had better clean up the mess I left on the table," Steve said as he rose somewhat stiffly from his chair and headed back into the house.

Mark wasn't exactly sure what kind of reaction he had hoped for, but what he got was not it.  He sighed deeply and then followed his son inside the house.

**………………..**

Dinner had been a tense affair.  The conversation had been carried by Mark and Amanda, with the occasional grunt or nod from Steve and Jesse, neither of them had spoke unless spoken to.  As the meal had concluded Steve had mumbled something about fresh air, and then walked out the door and down the steps to the beach.  After a moments hesitation Jesse had carefully folded his napkin and after laying it on the table followed Steve.

As he reached the top of the dune just behind the house he saw a figure silhouetted by the moonlight.  He sat on a log, his elbows resting on his legs his chin resting in the palms of his hands.  Jesse moved to stand behind making sure to make noise so as to not startle him.  As he reached the sand close to his friend Steve spoke.

"She said she loved me you know?"

Jesse stopped for a moment, not sure how to proceed.  "No, I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"I loved her too," Steve added in a voice so strained with emotion that it sounded foreign even to his own ears.  He felt a hand touch his shoulder and in a reaction that surprised even himself he reached up and grabbed that hand.

"I'm sorry, Jesse…," he paused for a moment in an attempt to regain his composure, "and thank you for saving my life."

Jesse pulled his hand back and quickly shoved it in his pocket.  For a moment he considered turning around and running to his car and escaping.  Then the bond of friendship that had given him the strength to follow Steve bolstered him once more.

"Steve, you have nothing to be sorry for, you were a victim, hell, we were all victims."

"I know, Jess, but what you did…," Steve trailed off.

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's been hard and will continue to be hard, but when I look at the alternative of not having you in my life, I know I did the right thing."

Steve said nothing; he only slid over on the log to make room for Jesse to sit beside him.

Jesse accepted the invitation and sat down.  He nervously rubbed his hands on his pants before continuing.  "Steve, I've never really known what a family was like, finding you, Mark and Amanda made me realize what I had been missing.  I know my parents love me, but I have found more acceptance and support with the three of you than I ever did with them.  He reached a hand towards Steve's arm and gripped the tense muscles he felt there.  "You are my family, and families take care of each other."

"When did you get so smart?" Steve asked in a whispered voice.

Jesse chuckled lightly.  "I hang out with the right people, now how about we go inside, I'm sure your dad has worn a path in the carpet pacing and looking out the windows."

Steve stood and offered a hand to the younger man, as he pulled him up off the log he slid an arm across his shoulders and hugged him tight against his side.  Jesse recognized the gesture for what it was, and smiled his understanding.  Things were far from being normal, that wouldn't happen for awhile, but they had taken the first crucial step towards recovery and that important first step had been taken together.

**………………..**

Mark and Steve sat on the deck enjoying the moonlight and the star filled sky.  Jesse and Amanda had left about thirty minutes ago and there had been kisses and tears exchanged.  They had faced a demon tonight, one that could easily have destroyed them.

"How are you doing, Son?"

"Better," Steve responded.

"I spoke with Alex's parents today," Mark said.

That had surprised Steve.  "You did?  What about?"

They had been packing up Alex's apartment and found some things they thought you might like," Mark added as he pulled and envelope out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table.

"What's in it?"

"What makes you think I opened it?" Mark asked.

Steve turned to look at his father and smiled.  "There is no way you would give it to me without knowing the contents."

Mark grinned sheepishly.  "Some pictures, the ticket stubs from the Bruce Springsteen concert you took her to and…," Mark paused and Steve looked at him more intently,  "some letters to you she never mailed."

Steve took the envelope.  "I think I'll look at this stuff later."

Mark nodded his understanding.

They sat in companionable silence for awhile longer, each of them grateful that the other was there to share the evening with and both of them comfortable in the knowledge that there was no adversity that could beat them if they faced it together.

THE END


End file.
